


what am i supposed to say when i'm all choked up and you're okay?

by wenmemehui



Category: Big Bang (Band), EXO (Band), GOT7, Multifandom - KPOP, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Exo are somehow involved, Gen, Graphic descriptions of violence, also blood and gore, everyone has powers, or: how they save the world and themselves in the process, so are seokjin and hyosang, tae and baek are brothers, the bad guy is someone y'all wouldn't even dream of, this was supposed to be a platonic bangtan superhero au and then exo happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenmemehui/pseuds/wenmemehui
Summary: "There's nothing wrong with being scared." Seokjin says. "It's important to fear things, or you get ahead of yourself and start thinking you're invincible.""I'm not scared of the Tournament." Taehyung replies. He doesn't say, "I'm scared of getting attached to you people," but from the way Seokjin smiles at him, he knows he's understood....Or: The one where Taehyung is a pathological liar, Jeongguk talks to things that aren't there, Hoseok is an angel with wings of two colors, Yoongi is Grim Reaper's bastard child, Seokjin is handsome enough to make people weep, Namjoon is a thief (just not the way you think he is), Jimin makes everything beautiful, and these seven people are more connected than they care to admit.Alternatively Titled: Why the Universe Hates Me - a Novel by Kim Taehyung....title taken from: Breakeven - The Script.





	1. introduction - why hoseok is a bad influence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Domain will kill us.” Yoongi says.
> 
> Hoseok’s eyes are shining. “Let’s do it.”

“Congratulations on getting selected.” Baekhyun says, words quiet and scathing against the quiet of the visitation room. “You’ll do great: I know you will.”

Even with his mouth quirked into a condescending smile, Taehyung thinks he looks better than he did before. He’s got some color on his cheeks, a little bit more life in his eyes as he surveys Taehyung through the glass barrier. There’s a purplish bruise on his neck, some cuts on his arms, but aside from that, he looks healthy. Taehyung says, “Good to see you’re well, hyung,” and gives him a slow smile.

Light dances on the tip of Baekhyun’s fingers. He’s got a beautiful power, Taehyung thinks, a beautiful power he uses to destroy people who call him weak. Sometimes he binds them by his beams, and occasionally helps the visually impaired by shooting beams of light into their eyeballs. Taehyung still remembers, sometimes, how Baekhyun used light to paralyze his opponent in the Annual Games, the look in his eyes every time the light swirled around him like godly beams. They called him the Light itself.

“You forget, little brother: I thrive of the light around us.” He says, smirking a little when Taehyung scoffs at his faux attempt. “And the light is everywhere. You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Yeah, actually.” Taehyung doesn’t really want to go. The Domain is an unfamiliar place, a cold place full of Anomalies and Superheroes and Villains alike, and Taehyung highly doubts any of them want to make friends there. It’s not summer school, or church camp. “I’ve packed my bags and all. Tomorrow, the bus is coming at around six, and I’ll go to the Domain. They don’t really allow visitation while I’m there. I won’t be back for a while, hyung.”

Baekhyun’s mouth curves into a smile, one that reminds Taehyung of their shared childhood memories and the lies they used to tell to the matron of their foster home about their Quirks. He says, “That’s alright, you know. I abandoned you for a whole year when I went to the Domain.”

[ _Yeah,_ Taehyung wants to say, thinking of the nights he stayed up because he couldn’t stop imagining Baekhyun’s mangled corpse in the maze of the Domain, draining of light and life, thinking of the nights he stayed up with his hands wrung together and blood turning cold when he thought of how hopelessly alone Baekhyun must be, thinking of all the nights he’d spent tossing and turning while reading his Cards over and over again, thinking of all the nights Taehyung had desperately folded and unfolded his Cards in vain to see if he could read the future: _you did abandon me, didn’t you, hyung?_ ]

“It wasn’t abandonment if you came back for me.” Taehyung says instead, reaching over to flick the glass barrier between them as if he were flicking Baekhyun’s forehead like he was seven years old and naïve again. “And I’ll come visit afterwards. If I live, that is.” He stops for a brief moment. Then he smiles sheepishly and asks, “Any advice for me?”

There’s a spark of amusement in Baekhyun’s eyes when he says, “Let it all rest in the hands of Fate, Taehyung.”

Taehyung laughs, and shakes the Deck of Cards, just like he had years and years ago when he was fifteen and sending Baekhyun off to the Domain for the first time, and he says, “Oh, but brother, I _am_ Fate.”

…….

 

The flowers are growing out of the cracks in the walls this time, orchids and chrysanthemums growing out of dents with greenish leaves and vines. They look beautiful in the water-stained ceiling of their broken home. Jeongguk says, “Hyung, stop it. I’m allergic to pollen.”

He’s not, really, but chrysanthemums and orchids mean Jimin is thinking too loudly about something, and the last time that had happened, Jeongguk was prying roots off Jimin’s neck before he suffocated to death. Instantly, the flowers stop blooming, and Jimin looks at him from the bed adjacent to his. He looks sheepish, and a little like he hasn’t gotten any sleep. “Sorry, Guk.” Jimin says. “I’m just nervous, you know.”

“Go to sleep, hyung.” Jeongguk says, shutting the light out and closing his eyes. “We have to catch the bus in seven hours, remember?”

Jimin rolls over too, so that he’s facing the wall full of peonies and lilies, and Jeongguk watches him until he’s sure he’s asleep. Then he transfers to his mindscape and thinks, _Seunghyun, I wish to see you._

Jeongguk doesn’t know anyone else who’s been to the Domain, because he doesn’t really know anyone aside from Jimin. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, if he’s being honest. The other Spirits aren’t being helpful either, wailing in his mindscape about death and fear and unresolved conflicts and salvation. Usually, they give him a fair warning about what’s coming up. This time, they hiss and say, _you’ll become one of us now._

“The Annual Games don’t kill you.” Seunghyun tells him, without much of a fuss. “They torture you, to put it simply. Pair you up with someone or put you in groups and in the end, someone dies. You kill everyone around you to survive and in the end it doesn’t feel like you’ve survived at all. It doesn’t kill you. It makes you stronger, and then makes you wish you were dead. All that blood, all that death: everything’s on your conscience in the end. You live with your wins and your sins.”

Jeongguk’s hands are trembling when he clenches his fingers into a fist and says, “So I’ll die?”

Seunghyun says, “No, but they’ll take everything you love and burn it to ashes, take everything you live for away from you and ruin your reason to breathe.” He looks like he’s grimacing when he says, “Watch out for your hyung. He’s your only connection to the Mortal Realm. Lose him once and it’s all over.”

Jeongguk thinks of Jimin, smiling and laughing and tucking a flower into his hair: he thinks of Jimin, saying, come on, _don’t cry, we’ve got a life to live:_ he thinks of Jimin curling a hand around Jeongguk’s hand and dragging him out of their old family manor: he thinks of Jimin holding peonies and chrysanthemums in his hand: he thinks of Jimin laying flowers on their dead father’s grave: he thinks of Jimin, kind and lovable Jimin with a heart of gold: and he says, “He’s my brother, you know.”

“I know.” Seunghyun sighs. “I know. And perhaps that’s what sets you apart from most of the other Mediums. They never cared about their Mortal Connection. You, on the other hand: you love him like your brother. It kept you sane all these years, but trust me: the Domain will exploit the hell out of him and you. Watch out for him, okay?”

“Okay.” Jeongguk repeats. His hands are shaking and his shadow is jerking against the white wall of his mindscape. “Anything else?”

Seunghyun smiles like he hasn’t just broken the news of Jeongguk’s impending doom on him. “When you go to the Domain and they tell you not to do something, dammit all to hell and _do it_.”

…….

 “The Domain will kill us.” Yoongi says.

Hoseok’s eyes are shining. “Let’s do it.”

Yoongi leans against the railing, eyes closed and sighing as the air whips past his face. Hoseok’s wings are extended, one wing onyx and the other stark white, and the feathers are in pristine condition as they brush against Yoongi’s left shoulder. He knows what he’s saying. Yoongi does too. The Domain isn’t something they’re really keen on, but they’re both riskers, and Hoseok loves Anomalies, and whatever Hoseok likes, Yoongi has to deal with.

“We could die.” He repeats, making sure that Hoseok heard him the first time. “Hoseok, we could _die_.”

“Hyung, you’re the Grim Reaper and I manipulate dreams long enough to turn them into nightmares.” Hoseok smiles, and it’s like he’s making an innocent proclamation. “We’re going to Hell anyway.”

He doesn’t have much to argue about that. The scythe weighs heavily against his side, and he presses it closer to him when a gust of wind passes by him. He’s not the Grim Reaper, per se, but he’s got the scythe and the robes and the frown for it. He takes happiness and turns people into rotting corpses, like Dementors. Hoseok says Grim Reaper is more accurate, because sometimes lightning flashes and his face turns into a skull or something. He’s weird like that. Yoongi says, “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The bus is coming around in six hours, and you can’t back off in the last minute.”

Hoseok hums and says, “You can stay if you want to.”

Yoongi snorts. “And let you die alone? Not happening.”

For someone who alters dreams until they’re nightmares, Hoseok has a brilliant smile. He looks at Yoongi and the corners of his mouth twist up into a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame, and Yoongi sees bits and pieces of his time in the Mortal Realm in the smile. He sees everything they’ve done together as a unit since being casted down from the Gates of Hell, and it shouldn’t feel so right; being friends with someone equally haunted and lost and equally mistreated as him, being someone’s support even though Yoongi is (was and will be) the purest of all evil and Hoseok is the sun and the stars and all things good; but it did.

After a while, Hoseok says, “Hey, Yoongi-hyung?”

Yoongi grunts.

“Thanks.” He says, and the edge of his white wing comes down to swipe at the black mask on Yoongi’s face. When Yoongi runs after him to get his mask back and Hoseok leaps off the bridge and soars in the sky like a bird, it feels like being eleven years old and rough-housing his best friend in Hell again.

 _No,_ Yoongi thinks, when Hoseok swoops down to tease Yoongi with his mask, _it feels like being home again_.

…….

 _It’s not much_ , Namjoon thinks, watching the sparkles fly from the tips of his fingers, _but it sure as hell isn’t bad_.

It was a girl, he remembers, someone from his IT class that made the mistake of calling him Quirk Thief. She’s more or less Quirk-less now, no longer an Anomaly because Namjoon stole her Quirk. He thinks the sparkles are a little over the top, and that it’s a little too predictable, but it awakens a childish side in him that he thought he’d lost after getting into college. Maybe one day he’d meet someone beautiful and he could shower her (or him, Namjoon isn’t really picky,) with sparkles while confessing his love for them. That’s the only use this power seems to have.

Namjoon isn’t the one to complain about the Quirks he picks up. They are all useful, in their own, messed up way. Namjoon once picked a Quirk which enabled him to read books twenty times faster than other people, and Advanced Biochemistry never seemed easier. There was a Quirk which turned everything into food, and Namjoon ate chair legs transfigured into chicken legs for weeks. Another Quirk enabled him to see Visions. He kept that Quirk. Quirk Thieves are usually ashamed of themselves, but Namjoon figured, hey, why not just make the best of being society’s outcast?

“My name is Kim Namjoon.” He tells the lady at the front desk in the Domain. “I was told to come in for the course.”

The woman blinks. “You didn’t take the bus?”

“Oh, no.” Namjoon says, thinking back to the speed-walking Quirk he’d stolen from a thief a few weeks back. “I walked here.”

…….

“You’re not going there.” Seokjin’s mother says. Even in the dim light of their kitchen, next to a water-stained walls, she looks beautiful, angry and commanding. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Seokjin wraps the scarf around his face and yanks the bag higher on his shoulders. “Goodbye, mother.” He says. “Take care of Hyosang.”

When his mother reaches over to grab his wrist before he swings the door shut behind him, Seokjin catches their reflections in the mirror on the door. He doesn’t look like her at all. There’s nothing in his face that implies he’s her son. His face is sharper and more angular than hers, he’s got lighter, paler skin than her, and everything from the shape of his eyes to the crook of his fingers is different from his mother. Seokjin never asks her why he didn’t look like her, partially because it has something to do with his father, and the man isn’t really in the picture anymore. He’s her son, he knows, because she raised him when no one else would.

“It’s dangerous out there.” She says, her jaw clenching and her fingers digging into the skin of his wrist. Seokjin can’t see it yet, but the blue marks bloom onto his skin like flowers in spring. He bruises easily. It’s a flaw people exploit, sometimes. “And you are not a Hero. You are one of us, a Villain. Nothing you do will change that, Seokjin.”

From the corner of his eye, Seokjin sees Hyosang skidding to a halt outside the door. He knows Seokjin’s going, but the look of utter disappointment in his eyes doesn’t change when he sees Seokjin’s bag slung over his shoulder and the scarf hung around his neck. One thing he hates about the Domain is how they don’t allow communication: going away is one thing, but going away and being unable to communicate is another. Hyosang says, “Leaving already, Jin?”

“He’s not going anywhere.” His mother says, exactly at the same time Seokjin says, “Yes.”

Hyosang’s eyes dart back and forth between them. He looks like their mother, with her hazel-shaped eyes and pointy jaw and colorless mouth. There are layers of dust and grime on his clothes, no doubt from Shrinking again and again through the attic to find something or another he liked to call an adventure. “Mom.” Hyosang says, gently prying her fingers away from Seokjin’s wrist. “Let him go. It’s his destiny.”

She scoffs. “You have gall talking about Destiny to me, Hyosang.”

“ _I can’t live like this anymore_.” Seokjin interrupts, and he doesn’t elaborate on what _this_ is, but he knows his mother understands. He’s thinking of their lonely little house on the hills, far away from families; the cobbled road they carved by hand; the lonely Christmas tree stashed in their basement with the sign that said _PURE EVIL_ on it; the variety of insults carved onto their front door; the pebbles slamming against the windows late at night because people think they’re sleeping through when in reality they’re kind enough not to snap; the times he’d gotten tossed aside at school because he had a black strip on his wrist in place of a blue or green one; the times he’s spent cleaning Hyosang’s wounds and his scars because the Heroes at school were too rough with him; the scathing looks his mother got whenever she stepped foot outside the house; and his mother knows he hates his life. “Let me go to the Domain and maybe they won’t –”

“They won’t _what_ , Seokjin? Treat us like we’re the poison of their world? Because I don’t think you’ve noticed it, but we’re evil!” His mother grabs his wrist again. This time, Seokjin watches the blue bruises bloom right next to the black strip on his arm. “People like you and me: we are not them! We are not destined for things as they are! Why don’t you just stay here and embrace it as I did?”

Seokjin wants to say, _because I am not a coward_ , but instead says, “Let go, please.”

“If they outcast you there,” she says, her voice fierce and cold and unforgiving, like the day she’d spoken to the Hero holding a knife above Seokjin’s throat when he was five years old and naïve: “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She lets go of his wrist. Seokjin nods at her and Hyosang, who looks a little like he wants to stop Seokjin, and swings the door open before taking a step out.

 _She’s wrong_ , he thinks, as he’s walking down the cobbled road to the bus stop while ignoring the fearful glances he’s getting, _I’m not evil because I’ve never felt evil._


	2. part i - how taehyung starts leaving hints.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seokjin scrunches his brows together. "Like Fortune Tellers."
> 
> "No." He grins, coquettishly. "Like Fate."

He puts on a mighty show of swinging his scythe around when the guard at the gate asks for all weapons.

Hoseok, who chooses to conceal his weapons in The Other Dimension, watches with his mouth quirked into a smile as Yoongi silently swings the scythe in a circle while the guard holds his hand out expectantly. He found the time to somehow swap his daily attire of ratty hoodies and ripped jeans for his robes, and he looks scary. Hoseok’s surprised the guard isn’t quacking in his shoes yet. A few clouds are gathering in the sky above them, courtesy of the negativity radiating of Yoongi, and the boy behind Yoongi, the one with a flower crown on his head, positively wilts when the flowers on his head wither.

“Hand over your weapon and remove your hood, C1654.” The guard repeats again. He’s addressing Yoongi with his candidate number, which doesn’t really faze Yoongi that much. He’s been called Grim Reaper too, so a number doesn’t do much to him. “That is an order.”

In front of Hoseok, the boy with the over-sized hood turns around slowly and collides against the glass door to attract the attention of the guard. There’s not much Hoseok can see, because he’s decked out in robes, like Yoongi is, and when he raises his eyes, Hoseok catches a flash of red in his pupils. The guard suddenly withdraws his hand, eyes turning a pale blue, and lets Yoongi in without much of a fuss. Hoseok gapes. Yoongi looks a little stunned, and he mouths to Hoseok, _did you see that_. The boy with the red eyes walks through the door. Hoseok, when Yoongi catches up to him, runs like hell to grab the guy by his shoulders.

“Hey!” Hoseok calls. “Wait up! Excuse me!”

This time, when he turns around, his eyes are a bright, venomous green. Hoseok freezes, stuttering to a halt, and suddenly, everything starts melting around him. He watches, with a fascinated kind of horror, as the floor beneath him turns into a neon green slush, when the walls start melting into poisonous green puddles. Hoseok chokes and turns to Yoongi, who looks demented as he starts melting too. _Don’t follow me,_ a voice suddenly says, and Hoseok jerks because the assaulter’s mouth isn’t moving at all; _don’t try to find me because Fate will punish you if you do._

Then, in the next second, like nothing happened at all, the walls are returning to normal and the boy is gliding away, and Hoseok is left in the hallway, breathless alongside Yoongi, who looks like he’s just seen death. Just when the boy turns the corner, a suspicious, shuffling sound comes from the pocket of his robes.

[ _Cards_ , Hoseok thinks, _the sound of cards shaking in a box_.]

…….

“My name is Namjoon.” The boy on the second bed says, smiling crookedly at Jimin and Jeongguk when they enter the room. “I’m going to be your roommate for the rest of our stay.”

He’s remarkably tall, Jimin notes, disdainfully. Jeongguk shakes his outstretched hand with a guarded smile, the one where his eyes don’t curve but he isn’t faking a smile either, and Jimin does the same. The flower crown on his head has long since wilted, thanks to the Grim Reaper at the front gates, so Jimin silently lets Jeongguk introduce both of them so he can work on bringing them back to life. He hates it when negativity kills his flowers. Grim Reaper clearly doesn’t know what happiness is.

This time, he replaces the peonies on the crown with rosebuds. It’s less heavy and easier to put on his head, and the white doesn’t stand out in his grey hair. Jimin won’t wear the crown if he could help it, but his powers fluctuate at the most inconvenient times and he has to keep an emergency power source in sight at all times. Jeongguk used to call him Flower-hyung when they were children. Cute as it was, Jimin doesn’t like being patronized by anyone.

They don’t talk much. Jimin searches Namjoon for any sign of a wrist band, but there’s none. Jeongguk comes to the same conclusion and takes the bed closest to the door to visit his mindscape and ask some questions from the Spirit in his head. Jimin takes the last bed, tossing his jacket off and exhaling deeply. Namjoon, who doesn’t bother making small talk, walks to the bathroom, and not even a second later, Jimin hears the shower running.

 _Yep_ , Jimin thinks, looking at the cold room and Jeongguk’s bed on the other side of the room; _I’m going to hate it here_.

From the crack in the ceiling, a lone chrysanthemum grows, and right next to it, a purple orchid blooms, and Jimin can see them smiling at him as though the artificial ventilation in the room is the spring air.

…….

“Our kind has to stick together.” Seokjin’s roommate says, smiling a little coldly. He hasn’t taken his hood off yet, but the obnoxious shuffling of cards in his pockets is a sign that he isn’t to be messed with at all. “You and me, we’re society’s outcasts.”

They’re the only Villains this year. Everyone else has either green or blue branded onto their wrists, and Seokjin can’t really count how many scathing looks he and the boy in robes got on the bus. Even the guards looked a bit wary of them. It’s not strange at all. Villains themselves are mostly extinct, thanks to the _noble_ efforts of Heroes, and according to the research he’s done, the last Villain to join any of the Games was Byun Baekhyun, five years ago. The man was in captive now, deemed insane and quite possibly charged with treason, because he tried to kill Director General Kim right after the games, screaming something about _you lying, filthy scum of earth_. Seokjin knows what he did was right, considering his circumstances. Director General didn’t think twice before snapping Lu Han’s neck in the middle of the Games to “motivate his team”. Seokjin would have done the same if he were in his place.

“Yeah.” Seokjin says, shifting his scarf higher on his nose. “I guess so.”

The boy removes his hood. He’s surprisingly young, for someone with a deep voice. There’s youth carved on every slope of his face, freckles dusting his nose, eyes bright and lit with a fire he doesn’t remember ever having. He says, “My name is Taehyung. I’m nineteen.”

“I’m Seokjin.” He replies, more on instinct than anything else. “I’m twenty two.”

Taehyung reaches into his pocket and takes a box of cards out. He plays with the box, twisting it around his slender fingers, and flops onto the second bed. Seokjin tosses his duffel bag onto the first and unravels the scarf off his face, figuring that a little team building by showing him his face won’t hurt. Taehyung stares at him for an uncomfortably long time. Then he says, “Ah, you’re an Ethereal.”

“A Siren.” Seokjin corrects, again out of instinct. He doesn’t really care much for keeping his powers a secret. Anyone who spends long enough in the same room as him always figures it out anyway. “There’s a difference. The Ethereal don’t really have any powers aside from being beautiful. Sirens can manipulate, kill and not have a guilty conscience about it.”

Taehyung says, “Well, I’m a Trickster.”

Seokjin arches an eyebrow. Tricksters almost always have a side-power, usually something like Element Control or Fortune-Telling. Taehyung, almost like sensing his curiosity, laughs and shakes the deck of cards in his hands. “I read cards.”

Seokjin scrunches his brows together. “Like Fortune Tellers?”

“No.” He grins, coquettishly. “Like Fate.”


	3. part ii - hoseok gets owned by yoongi (also: kwon jiyong is not who he says he is.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatever you’re thinking, stop thinking it.” Yoongi says, harshly. A few other Anomalies glance and scoot away from him. “Don’t be a brat, Hoseok.”
> 
> “Sorry, hyung.” He says, instantly. He’s a bit ashamed that he forgot they’re telepathically connected.

“Attention, please!” The man on the podium says, and in an instant, all the heads in the Main Hall snap up to meet his eyes. He smiles a little too coldly for Jeongguk’s liking. “My name is Kwon Jiyong and I’d like to offer you a warm welcome to the Domain. You may call me Professor Kwon, if you wish. As a previous contestant as well as a member of the staff here, I can assure you that your stay here will be comfortable.”

[ _Filled with thorns and lies is more like it,_ Seunghyun mutters in his conscience. _Who the hell does he think he’s trying to fool?_

 ** _You know him?_** Jeongguk is obliged to ask. Seunghyun isn’t generally an ass to people he barely knows.

 _Wouldn’t you remember a guy if he got you killed in action?_ ]

“It’s the 100th Games this year.” Professor Kwon says, curving his mouth into a condescending smirk. “Many have died in their honorable quest to win the Games, and within this hundred years, blood has been shed and bonds have been broken. Everyone makes it out alive here. Not unscathed, but everyone’s alive. You learn many things during the Games, and you should follow all the rules that are given to you.

“For all those who are hearing about the Games for the first time, I’ll tell you the basics of it. Seven of the most capable teams from the batch will compete in a series of surprise tasks, on the first day of winter.” Jeongguk makes a mental count. Winter is less than a month away. Everyone else draws the same conclusion, including Jimin, who blanches. He was expecting more time. “Yeah, it’s a bit rushed this time, because this batch is one of the most talented batches we’ve had since the one five years ago –”

“ – and look how that batch turned out – ” The man next to him says, a little like he wants Professor Kwon to shut up. Jeongguk is fascinated by his bluntness.

“No one asked you, Professor Park.” Jeongguk arches an eyebrow at the quick change of atmosphere in the room. Everyone else visibly shrinks in their seats. Professor Kwon rolls his eyes and starts talking again. “By the time dinner ends, you will be given the names of your teammates for the Games as well as an Instructor. You have a month to prepare yourselves, adjust your group dynamics, and the staff will give you all the help you need. You will have to undergo severe examinations before the Games.

“The rules are simple: play it fair and win. Use whatever Gift you have and win the Games. It’s as simple as that.” Professor Kwon smiles. “Oh, and for another, don’t get attached to anyone, in or out of your team. Having a bleeding heart isn’t going to win you the Games. It just paves way for weakness, insecurity and selflessness – namely, all the things that’ll kill you on the field.”

Jeongguk belatedly realizes that the man is looking straight at the daisy chain wrapped around his left wrist. It’s a sign of attachment, he seems to be thinking, an attachment to someone close to him. Jeongguk doesn’t like the way he’s staring, and he’s about to take the daisy chain off.

Then, he remembers Seunghyun saying, _whatever they tell you not to do, dammit all to hell and do it,_ and loops his fingers through Jimin’s, and smiles reassuringly when the other looks at him with uncertainty.

[“That was brave of you, brat.” Seunghyun says, later when Jeongguk’s blanked out in the middle of dinner long enough to visit his mindscape and catch a break. “I’m happy you followed my advice for the first time. Do whatever it takes to protect him, yeah?”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Jeongguk says, and he doesn’t realize he’s rubbing the daisy chain between his fingers like it were gold until he feels one of the petals fall in his palm.]

…….

Taehyung doesn’t really work well with people.

In fact, looking back, the only person he’s ever worked with is his brother, and that was more of a blood bond and instinct rather than teamwork and adaptation. He knows all of Baekhyun’s blind spots and his weaknesses as well as Baekhyun knows his, and rather than exploit those flaws, he’s mostly covered those up and filled in the gaps so his brother doesn’t get caught or die. Taehyung doesn’t know the first thing about working with more than one person at once. He tells Namjoon and Seokjin as much.

“Me neither, if I’m being honest.” Namjoon says, smiling his shy, dimpled smile. The boy doesn’t trust Taehyung or Seokjin, not really, but he’s disregarding the fact that they’re untrustworthy by nature and actually making an effort. Taehyung can admire that factor in him, the cold kind of trusting vibe he gives off, like he wants to trust but not really. “I ride solo.”

Seokjin shrugs. “Most teamwork I’ve ever done is when my brother and I tried to make pancakes for our mother on Mother’s Day.”

Taehyung secretly flips a card in his pocket and watches the words _it_ _went_ _horribly_ appear on it. “How was that?” He asks.

“Disastrous.”

They eat mostly in silence afterwards. One thing Taehyung has to credit the Domain for is their food. Baekhyun told Taehyung about how good their catering services were, and Taehyung thinks, _he wasn’t kidding about their lamb kebabs being so good_. Seokjin removes his scarf and eats in large bites while covering his mouth and trying to hold his aura in, moaning occasionally. It looks like he’s going third base with the pizza he’s eating. Namjoon looks a little disturbed when he looks over at Seokjin. He, for one, doesn’t look like he’s enjoying his noodles too much.

There’s another kid who isn’t eating, Taehyung notices, halfway through his second kebab. It’s someone from the far left of the fourth Anomaly table, the one with strawberry blonde hair and mysterious eyes. There’s a pendant around his neck, one with a skull and engraved words on it. Taehyung doesn’t squint at the words, partially because he already knows what it says. _Blood calls blood,_ in Latin. He’s seen that pendant around his brother’s throat. When Taehyung asked about it, Baekhyun said something about a friend being a Spiritual Medium.

 _Ah_ , he thinks, _so the Anomaly is a Medium._

He stares at the boy and doesn’t understand why he’s doing it until the cards start shuffling in his pocket. He doesn’t check it in public, mostly because he’s risking a chance of getting seen by the Higher-Ups. He’s technically listed in the register as a Manipulator and not as a Trickster and really can’t afford people to get on his case.

Suddenly, the kid snaps his head up and looks straight at Taehyung, and his eyes flash a soft, baby blue. _Interesting,_ Taehyung thinks, because Mediums don’t control, absorb or give out. They talk to spirits. This boy’s eyes flash in full color and that means he’s not talking. He’s searching.

His cards shake again. He doesn’t need them to point out the obvious and read, _he’s different_.

Taehyung wouldn’t have talked to Seokjin or Namjoon if his cards hadn’t given him the clear to, and the cards don’t pick the strawberry blonde as a threat. So Taehyung grins, a little cocky and a little expectant, and watches with a morbid kind of fascination as the boy smirks back.

Taehyung doesn’t realize he’s read his way through Taehyung’s soul until the boy’s eyes gleam yellow.

…….

For all the sophistication and elegance the Domain has, the team’s list is surprisingly ugly.

In Hell, nearly every document is aesthetically pleasing to look at. They don’t have flower borders like Heaven, but all the edges of documents burn with an onyx flame with an occasional blue flame too. He’s a little disappointed. Then again, in his three month stay in the Mortal Realm, all humans have done is let him down anyway.

Yoongi scrunches his nose up and slips the blank sheet into the pocket of his worn out robes. They’re not allowed to check the team lists until midnight, which Hoseok thinks is a bit dumb considering how they’ve just given it to them at eight o’clock. “It’s so ugly.” Yoongi says, stretching out in his seat. “Like, I thought the shit Heaven pulled was ugly, but this is so off-putting.”

His scythe is resting neatly next to him. It stops people from staring at his grumpy frown.

They’re roommates, luckily, and Hoseok kind of already knows they might not be teammates. Their backgrounds match, seeing that they’re more or less friends and come from the same place, and the Domain is notorious for promoting their usual _don’t get attached_ spiel, as proven by Professor Kwon’s BS-ridden speech.

Something in Hoseok deflates when he thinks about not being Yoongi’s teammate. They’re a unit – always have been too. There’s no Hoseok without Yoongi and no Yoongi without Hoseok. It’s that simple, if he wants to be blunt. Hoseok’s earliest memories in Hell include him wrestling Yoongi to the floor when he was six years old while snatching his mask off, flying with the heat from the flames blasting past his face like a furnace. He’s done every memorable thing in his life with Yoongi stuck by his side like glue, and the idea of him not being with Hoseok is unsettling.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop thinking it.” Yoongi says, harshly. A few other Anomalies glance and scoot away from him. “Don’t be a brat, Hoseok.”

“Sorry, hyung.” He says, instantly. He’s a bit ashamed that he forgot they’re telepathically connected.

They don’t talk much after that. The instructions are to keep to themselves until twelve, open their team lists, get to know their teams until one, and then go straight to bed. No questions, no protests – just straight to bed. Hoseok plays with his halo for a while and Yoongi polishes his scythe.

Hoseok feels eyes on him. When he turns around, there’s the boy with the robes sitting at the last table (Hoseok refuses to call it the Outcast’s Table like some rude Heroes and Anomalies who haven’t seen half of how it feels to be tossed aside), and surprisingly, he’s got a small smile on his lips. His eyes flash a deep shade of lilac.

Lilac means _I’m sorry_. Lilac is an apology. It’s not an explanation, but it’s an apology, and Hoseok’s too kind with who he forgives. He waves a hand dismissively and flicks some stardust from his halo at the boy.

Distantly, Hoseok catches the sound of cards shuffling. He remembers something from something he’d heard in Hell, a voice saying, _a boy in black, a boy with a cold heart of gold, a boy who loves too much and receives too little, a boy with eyes every shade of color in the spectrum, will have a stack of cards to read bits and pieces of a future Mortals never deserved,_ and suddenly, everything from the boys dark robes to his Trickster nature to the sound of cards shuffling in his pockets start making sense to him.

Hoseok’s looking at the boy who was born to destroy _himself_ as an ultimate sacrifice to mankind.

Hoseok’s looking at a ticking time-bomb.

Somewhere in the distance, the cards shuffle again.


	4. part iii - why park chanyeol is an ass (and how hoseok embarrasses himself in front of a pretty boy.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Um, no.” Seokjin says, because he’ll remember if he met someone with a halo on his head. “I don’t think so.”
> 
> “Funny.” He turns to Yoongi, who’s gently stroking the blade of his scythe with a careless hand, looking as disinterested and awkward as Seokjin feels. “Hyung, I could have sworn he looks like an Angel.”

By the time it’s twelve fifteen, it’s the just the seven of them there.

Seokjin’s no stranger to being occasionally forgotten about, really, so he’s the only one not staring quietly at the door while expecting their instructor to come anytime soon. Instead, he tugs his scarf higher on his face, covers his mouth and nose and leans back against his chair to look at the people on his team.

He isn’t sure if it’s a blessing or a curse, but Taehyung ends up on the same team as him. Namjoon does too, and he makes a quick work of introducing the youngest of the bunch that come from the Anomaly table as his roommates. Jimin and Jeongguk are young, really quiet and reserved for people their age. Seokjin thinks he can work with them if they don’t act up too much. The last two are distantly quiet too. The short, grumpy one is Yoongi and the one with the halo is Hoseok. They have no brands on them, but the stench of death clings onto them like a second skin. Naturally, Seokjin is suspicious.

No one else is making small talk either. When the crowds began to disperse with their respective teams and instructors and left the seven of them in the wide Hall with a guard outside, Jimin and Jeongguk quietly got up and brought their chairs to sit with Namjoon. Hoseok and Yoongi came too, muttered their names and sat on the right side, next to Taehyung. It’s awkward, and ridiculously so, but Seokjin doesn’t want anything to do with these people, so he doesn’t say anything. The feeling is very much reciprocated.

Suddenly, Hoseok turns to stare at him shamelessly for what feels like forever. Then, a little slowly and a little quietly, he asks, “Have we met before?”

“Um, no.” Seokjin says, because he’ll remember if he met someone with a halo on his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Funny.” He turns to Yoongi, who’s gently stroking the blade of his scythe with a careless hand, looking as disinterested and awkward as Seokjin feels. “Hyung, I could have sworn he looks like an Angel.”

Namjoon is the only one who snickers out loud. Taehyung stifles it on the palm of his hand, Jimin just smiles with his lips closed and Jeongguk sucks his teeth in like he’s embarrassed for Hoseok’s words. Yoongi just grunts, and if he knows what Seokjin is, he doesn’t say anything to his friend. Instead, he says, “Hoseok, stop embarrassing yourself,” and goes back to polishing his scythe.

Hoseok is about to interject with something feisty, but suddenly he sees something that makes his mouth stop at the first syllable. Seokjin sees it too, a flash of silver behind Jimin, and he’s about to say, “Watch out,” when suddenly Jimin is yanked to his feet and a knife is pressed to his neck; all in a span of one second.

“Back up.” The man behind Jimin says, pressing the blade closer to his jugular, and he sounds cold and quiet. In the silence of the room, Seokjin can hear his heart stuttering to a halt, an odd desire to protect coming over him in waves. “Or he dies.”

“Let go!” Jeongguk snarls. He looks angry, but there’s an amount of fear in his eyes too, like he’s afraid the man will really go through with killing the boy. The man doesn’t move, but the blade kisses his throat. “I said, let go!”

“Don’t mouth off to someone who’s holding your friend’s life in his hands, kid.” Seokjin can’t see it, but he knows the man is smiling coldly at Jeongguk, a little like he’s sympathizing with him for his desire to protect his friend. “I’ll repeat again; back off. All of you.”

Taehyung is the first to move. He grabs Jeongguk and steps back, a little calmly, and then pushes Namjoon behind too. Seokjin moves back the last, long after Hoseok and Yoongi have moved, and he watches with an odd kind of fascination and Jimin shakes his head at Jeongguk. He’s asking him not to do anything, Seokjin thinks, and then he arches an eyebrow neatly.

Suddenly, it starts smelling like rotten meat in the room.

Hoseok is the first to gag, and then everyone catches a whiff of it, including the assaulter, who chokes. Jimin looks like he’s trying not to smile when the man starts coughing. Jeongguk raises his eyes to the ceiling, and his eyes widen. Seokjin looks up too, his hand coming to rest on his scarf so he can inhale the scent of cookie dough and his mother’s favorite laundry detergent instead of the disgusting stench in the air; and he doesn’t know whether to snicker or gag.

There, right above the assaulter’s head, is a Venus flytrap, large enough to cover the whole ceiling with its mass size.

In the next second, there’s a loud squelching sound, and then the man’s blade clatters to the ground and he rises up, pressure building up in the air and the stench becoming even more prominent. The flytrap closes just as the man’s shoes disappear into its fleshy mouth. Seokjin thinks, _oh my god, disgusting_ , and his insides are rolling and twitching, but Jimin looks pleased with himself when the flytrap sucks the man in completely. Jeongguk says, “Gross, hyung,” but he’s smiling too.

He tugs Jimin closer to him by the wrist and checks him over for injuries. There’s none, but there’s something really nice about the way Jeongguk runs his hands along his neck and asks, “Does anything hurt?”, and Seokjin hates that he’s weak enough to smile at the brotherly display of affection. He suddenly misses Hyosang a lot more than he originally did. It makes his throat thicken and his mouth dry up.

“Well, well, well.” A vaguely familiar voice interrupts them, and Seokjin snaps his head up to meet the large figure leaning against the gate. He looks virtually the same as the man who attacked Jimin looked. Everyone else comes to the same conclusion, weapons coming out one by one. Seokjin’s is a dagger with a rainbow tie-dye handle. (Hyosang’s gift, really.) Yoongi’s scythe slices the air. Namjoon’s eyes flash green and Taehyung’s go red. Hoseok’s wings extend. Jeongguk releases a spirit. The man says, “I guess incompetency isn’t a thing here anymore.”

“What did you think?” Jeongguk says, mouth curling into a snarl and eyes turning yellow as the faceless Spirit next to him expands, growing in size and taking up as much as space as possible. Its mouth opens into a silent scream. Seokjin’s impressed. “That you could do threaten my hyung and I’ll just sit here and take it? Who the hell do you think you are, huh? _Answer me_!”

The last words are uttered with such indignation that the air freezes around them. Seokjin watches as the Spirit jerks, and there’s a loud wail from it. It sounds like one of his tone-deaf ancestors, Seokjin thinks, and covers his ears. Everyone else jerks. Then they’re paralyzed with fear. For a child who has little to no control over his powers, Jeongguk poses an explosive threat when he riled up.

There’s a flicker of light from the man’s face. There’s a cattish grin on his face, oddly reminiscing of a predator in wait. “I’m your Instructor, Mr. Jeon.” He’s got a pendant around his neck, the same way Jeongguk has one, and Seokjin squints at it in the dim light of the room. It says, _Blood calls Blood._ “My name is Park Chanyeol.”

 _Blood calls Blood,_ Seokjin thinks, and strangely enough, the man looks at Jeongguk like he knows a secret the boy doesn’t. When he catches the look in Namjoon’s eyes, he realizes that he isn’t the only one who comes to that conclusion.

[He completely misses how Taehyung’s eyes flash turquoise and then back to black, and how Hoseok watches him with his halo in his hands.

Days later, when everything goes wrong, Seokjin will realize that it all comes back to this moment.]


	5. part iv - hoseok embarrasses himself (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m with him on this.” The Villain with the scarf says. He’s stranger than any other Ethereal Yoongi’s ever had the misfortune of meeting, and it’s not really in a good way. There’s something about how he doesn’t reveal his entire face but only bits and pieces at a time that doesn’t sit well with him. “In this group, most of us are flight risks, myself included. Angel Boy and Grim Reaper aren’t even human. I can work with everyone here, sure, but attachment is another thing entirely. If I can help it, I won’t even tell these people my name.”
> 
> “It’s Seokjin.” Namjoon says, precisely at the same time Hoseok blushes awkwardly and says, “It’s beautiful.”
> 
> [Oh, God, no, Yoongi thinks, and pinches Hoseok on the arm, I am not dealing with this again.]

Villains always have a deep-rooted hatred in their soul.

The funny thing about Kim Taehyung is that he doesn’t have anything like that in his spirit aside from one black dot, right at the center of his heart.

Jeongguk reads his soul like it’s an open book, but bits and pieces are guarded closely and he doesn’t read those even though he knows he can if he tries hard enough. Everyone’s entitled to their own secrets, really. Nearly everything in Kim Taehyung’s soul is pure white (for purity) or dark blue (for love) and forest green (for happiness), namely a sign of beauty and kindness, but there’s a sole dot of black, right at the center of his heart. It’s not evil. Jeongguk won’t call it evil if the white still shines in the depth of his spirit, if the vibrant colors don’t completely fade away and don’t get overpowered by the black dot.

Jimin goes straight to bed when they’re dismissed by their instructor, who Jeongguk’s starting to hate. Attacking Jimin and then not even properly apologizing was a bitch move on his part. Jeongguk doesn’t care if he was trying to make a point by testing their abilities in the face of an emergency – he doesn’t like Park Chanyeol and that man is unprofessional, stupid and arrogant. It’s really that simple. Namjoon tells him to just forget about it and go to sleep when he shuts the light out, but Jeongguk can’t just _forget it._

He tries to imagine it. If the knife slipped, if the blade sank into the expanse of Jimin’s jugular, he’d be dead. And a dead Jimin means a powerless, helpless, lost Jeongguk. There’s nothing left for him if Jimin dies – he’ll have to live on without him, he’ll be virtually powerless and that’s not the kind of life Jeongguk wants to live.

Jeongguk tosses to his left side and tosses right back to his right. He’s restless with the thought of something like that happening.

“Get some sleep.” Jimin suddenly says, from the third bed. He sounds groggy, and there are lilies blooming around him on the bedsheets, a sign that he’s tired. “You keep shuffling and I don’t like it, Guk. Trust me, I’m fine. Just get some sleep.”

Jimin’s soul is strange. Jeongguk read it only once, when he was fifteen years old, and his soul was entirely made up of pastel colors: mint green – for love and compassion – pastel blue – for a soul brighter than happiness – and an edge of light pink – for sweetness and beauty. But in between shockwaves of color, Jeongguk saw ripples of dark colors too. Purple rippled beneath the pink – it represents the desire to sin – and brown bubbled under the mint green. It represented the constant urge to lie. There were shades of blotchy navy blue under the pastel hue, representing the impurity buried in the depths of his spirit. He contradicts, in a way.

He’s a walking, talking contradiction. Jeongguk shouldn’t have trusted him, but he did.

It doesn’t matter, really, that dark colors bubbled under the light once, that Jimin is a proven liar. Jimin is the only one Jeongguk ever trusted, the only one Jeongguk ever let in after his family abandoned him because he was special, the only one who squeezed Jeongguk’s hands when he was six years old and afraid of thunderstorms, the only one who nicknamed him and sent him to school and picked fights with kids who called Jeongguk shady things. He’s Jeongguk’s brother, all technicalities aside, and he thinks, it’s never been a problem that his soul is strange.

“Sorry, hyung.” He says. “Good night.”

[If he closes his eyes, he can see the outlines of Jimin’s and Taehyung’s souls, and the strange thing is, the bright colors outshine the dark colors. They’re both flight risks. Jeongguk decides it’ll be worth it to trust Taehyung if he can trust Jimin.]

…….

“Whatever Professor Kwon said yesterday,” Park Chanyeol says, leaning even further against the wall and shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes, “forget all about it. The whole “no attachments” thing? Yeah, forget it. Under my guidance, you will be attached to each other, and most importantly, you’re going to like it.”

Yoongi thinks he’s got a bit of a problem. Attacking Flower Boy (he doesn’t remember the kid’s name at all now) is one thing, and then not even giving a reason is another. Now he’s here, literally passing orders, and Yoongi thinks he can’t possibly be the only one who’s even remotely suspicious of the guy. He’s skilled though. According to his sources, the man was one of the most skilled mediums in history.

From the highest branch of the tree, the one called Namjoon smiles condescendingly says, “You know, I don’t trust you, Professor.”

He laughs. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust each other. Can you guys do that?”

Yoongi doesn’t trust people. He doesn’t do Mortal emotions like love, attachment and trust. Neither does anyone else in the room, if he’s being honest. The two Villains are a flight risk – neither of them look like they’ve had a stellar life leading up to this moment, and quite frankly, the one with the Cards always looks like he’s plotting the demise of the earth while the one with the scarf always looks like he wants to sink into the ground and disappear. Namjoon looks like he more or less has no interest whatsoever in working as a team, possibly because he’s in a Subgroup that’s not even classified as a Subgroup anymore. Flower Boy and Bunny Teeth trust each other with their lives, but they don’t like the idea of trusting others. Yoongi thinks that they’ve had only each other for a long time. As for Hoseok, he’s a half-breed tossed out of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory because he “didn’t have a place there”, and his best friend is Grim Reaper’s bastard child, so trust isn’t really something in his dictionary. The last time Hoseok trusted someone before Yoongi, it was his mother, and the woman had gotten him thrown out of the Skies. This entire team seems more morbid the more Yoongi thinks about it.

“Not really.” Bunny Teeth breaks the silence. He’s clutching his pendant in his hands, tight enough to turn his knuckles white, but there’s a fire in his eyes that makes Yoongi wonder about just how fast this kid had to grow up. “I mean, I don’t know any of these people except Jimin-hyung, and you tried to kill him.”

“Oh, get over it.” Professor Park says. “My best friend was murdered right in front of my eyes and my other best friend is in jail because he’s an impulsive brat. Look at the bright side – at least your hyung is alive.”

Hoseok says, “The best I can do is count on these people to cover me in combat. I’m not keeping any personal connections with them outside the field. It’s dangerous enough that Yoongi-hyung and I are friends. I’m sorry, but I really can’t commit myself to the safety of other people.”

“I’m with him on this.” The Villain with the scarf says. He’s stranger than any other Ethereal Yoongi’s ever had the misfortune of meeting, and it’s not really in a good way. There’s something about how he doesn’t reveal his entire face but only bits and pieces at a time that doesn’t sit well with him. “In this group, most of us are flight risks, myself included. Angel Boy and Grim Reaper aren’t even human. I can work with everyone here, sure, but attachment is another thing entirely. If I can help it, I won’t even tell these people my name.”

“It’s Seokjin.” Namjoon says, precisely at the same time Hoseok blushes awkwardly and says, “It’s beautiful.”

[ _Oh, God, no,_ Yoongi thinks, and pinches Hoseok on the arm, _I am not dealing with this again._ ]

Professor Park sighs, but even his sigh is belittling them. “Fine, then, but really, I like your attitudes. You remind me of the people I competed with. Isn’t that right, Taehyung?”

“Yeah.” The boy smiles. It’s a cold smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I guess we do.”

“You’ll thank me later.” Professor Park says, and his eyes are trained on Taehyung even though he’s talking to everyone else. “Now, training time. I want to see a basic show of your skills. We’ll start with you, Jeon, since you can’t stop reading the inside of my soul.”

…….

Unlike what he wants others to believe, Jimin really isn’t clueless.

It’s a bloodbath out there. He’s seen the previous games. People get attacked left and right, they bleed so much that it floods out of the arena and pools beneath the feet of the spectators. He’s never known someone who’s been in there. He’s no stranger to the works of it, though. The truth is, teams always get attached, and the Domain always picks one team that’s close enough to be brothers-in-arms, and they always, always make it a point to kill one person.

What happened to Professor Park is a living testimony of that fact, and if he really thinks about it, it’s likely to happen to any one of them. Even if they don’t get attached to anyone else, amongst them, they’re attached to one or more person. Jeongguk is attached to Jimin, Grim Reaper and Angel Boy are like brothers, and the two Villains have a sort of understanding between the two of them. The only person who seems to be completely immune is Namjoon, and even he seems to have a bond with the two Villains.

Jimin makes grapevines bloom around the boulder of rock and uses them to break the rock in half. That’s all he’s willing to divulge the rest of them as of now.

Jeongguk doesn’t show off much either. He summons a few Spirits and lets them possess him for less than a minute. He doesn’t say anything about the fact that he talks to Spirits, obtains Spirits and brands them as his own army. He doesn’t talk about how he can bring people back to life if he gives away bits and pieces of his soul. When asked if he’s mastered how to use the pendant to his advantage, he shrugs.

Taehyung shows them what he can do with his eyes. When asked about the cards, he grins and says it’s a hobby.

Namjoon says he’s a Quirk Thief and shows them a whole bunch of elemental control attacks and force fields. He completely ignores it when asked about whether he focuses on certain Quirks or not.

Angel Boy shows his wings and blankly says, “I can fly and my name is Hoseok.” For some reason, he’s looking straight at Jimin when he says that.

Grim Reaper grunts and swings his scythe around. “I reap souls and happiness and wilt flowers. Don’t ask for a demo unless you want a one way ticket to Purgatory.”

Seokjin just takes his scarf off and smiles at them. He looks like one of Jimin’s rosebuds, elegant and beautiful. His smile warms Jimin’s heart and everyone stares when he raises a hand and sheepishly runs it along the curve of his jaw. He asks, “I’m really handsome, aren’t I?”, and Jimin finds himself saying, “Yes,” even though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t realize everyone else is saying it too until he hears Professor Park laugh.

Then the mist clears and Seokjin puts his scarf on. Ethereal Families are usually very, very persuasive. He could have asked them for anything, like money or food or even a good kiss if he tried hard enough. Jimin just can’t believe he got them to admit he’s hot.

“You’re all good.” Professor Park says. “Brilliant, actually, but you all have weak spots and blindsides. You can probably cover all of them with the powers you hid from everyone else here. On a side note, Jeongguk, stick around and talk to me before you leave. I want to see your pendant.”

He dismisses them after that, giving them instructions to come meet him after dinner at the same place. Jimin doesn’t know why, but when Namjoon asks why they have training after the sun sets and Professor Park smiles and says, “It’s a surprise,” it doesn’t sit well with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not 2seok i just rly dig the idea of no brain-to-mouth filter hoseok, ok


	6. part v - namjoon + the royal asskicking (also: things go from 0 to 100 real quick.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixty seven miles away, the boy called Im Jaebum wakes up on the middle of a deserted road with robes on his body that are not his, blood coating his hand like a second skin, one of his own arrows puncturing his forearm and a pair of broken ribs. He does not recall anything of the past seven and a half hours.

If you ask Namjoon, he can’t really count down the events that dragged him to his current predicament.

He’s behind one of the trees on Training Ground VI, blood staining his hands and knuckles bruised purple. There’s a cut on the left side of his torso with shards of glass embedded in it, stinging the hell out of his already screaming muscles. He flinches and removes a shard of glass from his side. He’s helped himself out of his shirt long ago. The air is biting cold and freezing like the taste of a lover’s lips on the first night of winter.

Namjoon tries to remember if he has a healing Quirk. In the haze of his mind and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he can only remember the Quirk to stop the feeling of pain.

The bleeding doesn’t stop, even when Namjoon’s eyes turn turquoise and the Quirk is in full effect. It continues dripping down his waist in thick droplets, but he doesn’t quite feel it as intensely anymore. The pain isn’t rushing headfirst into his brain, and he can at least think clearly now. He doesn’t remember who attacked him. He doesn’t even think it was a person.

There’s a shuffle from his left. Namjoon catches an arrow just before it hits him square on his forearm. Then he hurls it right back in the direction and leaps into the darkness.

He keeps wondering when the others are going to show up. It’s been roughly eleven minutes since dinner ended, and no one’s here yet, except Namjoon and his attacker, apparently. He thought it was maybe their instructor again, trying to test him in action, but Namjoon knows it’s not him because his aura is different. Park Chanyeol’s aura is large and white whereas the attacker is cold and dark and little.

If they come, maybe they’ll bail him out of this situation.

“Quirk Thief, aren’t you?” Someone says, loud and clear from the bush behind him. Namjoon jerks back, lightning playing at his fingertips and muscles tensing to attack any moment. “You’re surprisingly proud of yourself for someone who steals other people’s Gifts, Namjoon. Didn’t your mother tell you robbing someone was a sin?”

“Never had anyone to tell me that, but thanks for your concern.” Namjoon responds, and watches the shadows dance around the bush and the leaves swirl as the attacker moves. _Super-speed and weaponry._ “The hell are you anyway? Don’t think I’ve heard you anywhere, and the arrow looked foreign. Did your mother never tell you attacking someone without telling them your name wasn’t cool? Besides, you know my name. Play it fair, jackass.”

“Bite it, Namjoon.” His attacker laughs. “Somethings just aren’t fair in life, are they?”

There’s another arrow launched from his left. Namjoon ducks and lets it land next to him before leaping to the left. “What do you want?” He finally asks, when there are no more attempts at his life. “I’m pretty sure you want something. Tell me what it is, I’ll help you, and you can get the hell away from me.”

“Do you know a Kim Taehyung?”

“The only Kim I know is me.” The lie slips off his tongue like water cascading down a hill. He doesn’t know why he’s lying for a kid who always looks like he’s nursing a hidden agenda. Namjoon’s usually quick to do the smart thing and get people out of his hair. “If that’s all, can you stop attacking me?”

“I’ve seen you with him.” The voice persists. A gust of wind flies past him, and belatedly, Namjoon realizes, _super-speed, weaponry and invisibility._ “Him, you, half-Siren, Flower Boy, Medium and the two guys from Hell are on the same team. He means a lot to a friend of mine, you know.”

The safe thing to do is be honest and run like Hell. Namjoon’s bleeding way too much and his Quirk is slowly fading. He knows what he has to do, but instead, he grits his teeth and he says, “I don’t know anyone called Kim Taehyung. I’ve met my team, and if he was there, I didn’t talk to him. We’re not friends.”

[He doesn’t know why, but it tastes like a lie.]

There’s a fist in his stomach. Namjoon jerks even though he can’t feel it, and blood pools out of his mouth. On instinct, he drives his elbow onto the attacker, and takes great pleasure in the way he chokes and coughs and says, “Son of a –”. Right to the chest, like the true, old fashioned hand-to-hand combat.

“I’ll ask again.” The man says, and Namjoon can feel him breathing down his neck and anger rolling off him in waves. “Do you or do you not know a Kim Taehyung?”

“I don’t.” Namjoon snarls, and his Quirk fades away long enough for him to feel a jab of pain on the side of his neck. He hisses. “I don’t know anyone of that name. Ask someone else who actually bothers learning names.”

“You talk a lot.” The assaulter comments, and Namjoon lets out a strangled gasp when he’s suddenly pushed down to the ground, air leaving his lungs as his Quirk fades away completely. He feels a weight on his waist, and he thinks, _I’m going to die_ right before invisible hands grasp at his neck. “It doesn’t matter to me whether you die or not. I’m here for information, and if you can’t give me that, I’ll kill you. Your corpse would be a nice remainder for Chanyeol-hyung, I think.”

 _Hyung._ Namjoon registers, and struggles against the fingers squeezing the curve of his throat. _Chanyeol-hyung. He’s on hyung terms with my instructor and clearly doesn’t like him._

Namjoon isn’t picky with what Quirk he uses to defend himself. He’s running low on stamina and he’s still bleeding out from his waist, a harsh remainder that he’s going to pass out any minute and he’s being strangled to the point that everything looks like bursts of color. It’s a bit of a surprise to him, though, when he reflexively feels bursts of white light on his fingertips. It scorches the attacker. Namjoon hears him in the darkness, cursing and swearing as he leaps back. He reaches over to grip the man, but instead, a broken piece of cream cloth falls in his hands.

A piece of his robes, Namjoon thinks, hazily, and suddenly, he’s hyperaware of the footsteps approaching him. They’re fast and hurried, and the attacker notices them too. He hisses to Namjoon, “This isn’t over, not yet, anyway,” and in a flash of yellow, he’s gone.

 _EXOPLANET._ Namjoon’s barely conscious enough to read the words on the cloth before he knocks himself out with the final thought of _I’m going to die_.

When Namjoon’s hands go limp, they fall into a pool of his own blood, and the once cream cloth piece in his hands is stained red. It completely obscures the writing on it.

…….

Namjoon’s soul is red.

That itself should be a confusing fact.

Red means _reap me and take me to Hell._ Red means _liar_. Red means _sinner_. Red means _outcast_. Red means _I’m going straight to Hell_. Red means _damned_. Namjoon is neither of those five things, as far as Yoongi is concerned. He guesses the most the boy has sinned was probably when he walked to the Domain instead of taking the bus like everyone else.

Jeongguk comes to a similar conclusion. “It’s red.” He says, eyes flashing blue and then yellow. “Like his blood.”

Yoongi wordlessly runs up to the motionless boy, Jeongguk hot on his heels. He looks like he’s been run over by gargoyles. Yoongi tries not to flinch at the nasty cut on his side and the bruises over his body, like someone kicked him around and tried to stab him with an arrow or something like that. Someone tried to kill him, he thinks, and his most coherent thought is _why_. Namjoon bleeds red like the color of his soul and he’s not breathing anymore.

If Yoongi looks hard enough, his soul is disintegrating at the edges.

“I’ll get help.” Jeongguk suddenly says, and he sounds as panicked as Yoongi feels. He must have reached over and checked Namjoon’s non-existent pulse while Yoongi zoned out and looked at small wisps of red rising. “Um, do you think you’ve got it from here?”

Yoongi nods. In the next second, the kid is running.

His scythe isn’t much of a hassle to summon. He hisses the familiar Latin and suddenly it’s falling into his open hands, its weight cold and familiar against his skin. This time, it’s already lit up with orange flames, sensing the lost soul in its range. It twitches and convulses and Yoongi realizes it wants to reap, however soon it maybe.

 _Stand back_ , he thinks and almost like a petulant child, his scythe stops jerking towards Namjoon.

He can’t technically interfere with the boy’s Reaping. It’s entirely the scythe’s decision to reap his soul, and the scythe is always soul-hungry and wired to do his job. He kind of hates that. Looking back on the less than stellar history of the souls he’s reaped with the scythe, he really can’t say Namjoon deserves to be reaped by him. The kid has potential rolling off him in waves, intelligence in every little word and every little action. He’s practically a closet genius. Hoseok knows more about him – because Hoseok went behind everyone’s backs and did a background check – and from what he’s heard, the kid’s destined for something great. Yoongi doesn’t think he can reap his soul with his mediocre scythe.

Actually, he can. His father said he should, regardless of how wrong it felt. Unfortunately, Yoongi never grew out of his teenage rebellion phase, and hence, he doesn’t really care.

He thinks he’ll regret this, and Namjoon’s blood is seeping into his robes when he drops to his knees next to the boy. He’s dead – has been, for a while. The boy has no family. He doesn’t have friends or comrades either. Yoongi highly doubts anyone will miss him or ask of him. It’ll be easier to just let him die – at least in Purgatory, he won’t be alone.

He curses Hoseok for waking his inner mortal up from its permanent vegetative state. Then he swings his scythe anti-clockwise ten times, watches as the bits of his soul re-emerge from the sky, and when he’s sure every single red shard is clinging onto his scythe, he presses the underside of his blade to Namjoon’s chest.

The result is, as expected, brilliant. There’s a bright light from where the blade kisses his skin, and suddenly, the blood stops dripping. His wounds close up magnificently, leaving an occasional scar. Yoongi usually hates giving life. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it to this kid he’s only known for two days. _Well,_ he thinks, when Namjoon’s eyes fly open and he gasps for air, _too late now._ He wonders why he doesn’t feel as much of regret as he’d expected to.

The first words out of the boy’s mouth when he’s finally breathed enough air to talk are, “Wow, I did not think Grim Reaper was less than four feet tall.”

Namjoon is spared from Yoongi’s withering glare by the Medics swarming into the scene.

…….

Sixty seven miles away, the boy called Im Jaebum wakes up on the middle of a deserted road with robes on his body that are not his, blood coating his hand like a second skin, one of his own arrows puncturing his forearm and a pair of broken ribs. He does not recall anything of the past seven and a half hours.

 _Jaebum-ah_ , the voice in his head whispers, and Jaebum can feel the person’s hands on his torso, their lips at his cheek, their nails sliding and slipping on his skin, and he loathes it. He jerks, face splitting into a snarl and shoves the person back. Jaebum realizes they aren’t there – just a figment of his imagination, according to his mother. _Jaebum-ah, good work today._

“Fuck off!” Jaebum screams back, and it’s five years of repressed frustration and anger and sadness in his voice that echoes off the roads and right back in his ears. “Get away from me! I don’t want this – I never did! What do you want from me?”

 _I want the best for you_. Jaebum feels so angry at himself that his hands come up to claw at his own face, mouth twisting into another scream that echoes right back at him. He hates himself. He hates himself for being so _weak_. He can’t fight off someone who’s been controlling his head for years and years on an end and he can’t save himself from his own anger and self-loathing. He is a monster. He is a monster and he wishes he isn’t one. _Now get up, Jaebum-ah. Go home, clean yourself up, get rid of the evidence and if you even open your mouth to anyone, think of Youngjae. I won’t hesitate to kill him and you know it._

Youngjae. Jaebum startles at his name. He left Youngjae alone when he shouldn’t have. He’s such a fucking failure. “Where’s Youngjae?”

 _Home._ The voice whispers, and the fingers that slide on his cheek feels real even though nothing is in his immediate line of sight. _Go home, Jaebum-ah. I’ll let you know if I have some work for you later._

Jaebum gets up with shaking legs and says, “Please don’t hurt Youngjae,” but he knows it’s too late. It’s always too late.

[He finds Youngjae sleeping on the futon of their empty apartment, book clutched in his hands and glasses balanced precariously on his nose like he’d been staying up for Jaebum to come back. There’s a letter next to him. Jaebum gets the blood off his hands before he picks it up, careful not to wake Youngjae in case he starts asking questions.

 _To Mr. Choi Youngjae and Mr. Im Jaebum,_ it reads, _Congratulations on being the last two members to be selected for the 100 th Annual Games held in the Domain._

The voice in Jaebum’s head lets out a laugh that sounds more like nails scratching on a wall.]


	7. part vi - taehyung uses the "call me hyung" line on jeongguk + return of smiley sunshine jimin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung blinks, owlishly. “How did you get in?”
> 
> Collected a Guard’s Spirit and left him reliving the memory of his wedding day – also known as Plan Six Seven Eight in Jeon Jeongguk’s Guide to Having Your Way. “I asked first, Taehyung-ssi.”

“There are traces of Mind Control everywhere.” Jeongguk says, effortlessly stepping up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Kim Taehyung long after Training Ground VI has been cleared out by paramedics and guards alike. “Namjoon tested negative, so I’m going to go on a whim and say the attacker was under someone’s influence.”

And it’s true – when Jeongguk looks, there are traces of true Spirits in the air: one small and barely discernable, another large and dominating and vengeful above anything else. Namjoon’s brief description stated only one attacker, and the smaller aura is only in bits and pieces while the larger is everywhere – that one did more damage. Taehyung gives him a sideways glance, quiet and wary, and he says, “I’m trying to figure out if I can trace the auras back to anyone using my cards.”

“You can’t do that.” There’s only so much physical weapons and cards can do. “It’s impossible to trace Mind Control Residue back to users because they all have the same Residue anyway.”

“Figured.” Taehyung pockets his cards. “How’s Namjoon-ssi?”

Last Jeongguk saw, he was on pain meds, and kind of high. “Alright, I guess. Professor Park’s been keeping an eye on his progress. The Officials are coming around for Interrogation, so the other guys are trying to get him prepared for it.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he asks, “And what are you doing here?”

“Ask your cards, Taehyung-ssi.” It comes out more patronizingly than he intends it to – Jeongguk doesn’t cope well under being called out for doing things that’s not expected of him. Taehyung smiles at him, edges cold and expectant. Jeongguk clears his throat and says, “Everyone else was busy so I figured I’d come see what you were doing at the Grounds after the scene was cleared.” Then, almost as an afterthought; “How did you get in here, anyway?”

Taehyung blinks, owlishly. “How did you get in?”

 _Collected a Guard’s Spirit and left him reliving the memory of his wedding day – also known as Plan Six Seven Eight in Jeon Jeongguk’s Guide to Having Your Way._ “I asked first, Taehyung-ssi.”

“I’m asking now, Jeongguk-ssi.” He smiles. Jeongguk wants to punch his teeth in.

Yep, Jeongguk really should have just minded his own business and stayed in the Infirmary. “What are you even doing here?”

Jeongguk knows the answer. Taehyung’s here for the exact same reason Jeongguk is – to see if they can find out who’s behind all this. Jeongguk doesn’t have a reason to care, but sometimes, he gets urges to read auras in crime scenes and solve them on his own, and knowing that his roommate was assaulted just made that urge stronger. He’s not a friend of Namjoon’s, but they’re mutual acquaintances. Jeongguk doesn’t hate him. Logically, that’s enough of a reason for him to be there.

Taehyung – it’s a little difficult to gauge the reason why _he’s_ here, but before Jeongguk had left the Infirmary, Seunghyun, in a rare display of wanting Jeongguk to know something without him asking first, pulled him into his mindscape and said, “The attacker was here for Taehyung first – that’s why he’s there.” Jeongguk initially thought that maybe Seunghyun was finally becoming more accommodating to the drama surrounding Jeongguk’s daily life. Then the Spirit tossed him out of his mindscape with a holler of _befriend him_ , and he realized that he’d been played like a fiddle.

“Just felt like nosing into other people’s business.” Taehyung replies, and his hands come up to rake through his hair. “And tell me – if you’re a Spiritual Medium, you have some connections to Mind Controllers, no?”

Jeongguk gets the hint. “Well, we’re from the same family, but they’re a whole different branch of our type. I have their roots, if that’s what you’re asking. My great-grandfather was a Controller.” Then, almost instantly; “Why do you ask?”

“I read somewhere that if you have the heritage you can actually read these auras and match them to the Controller. Only other Mind Controllers can differentiate between the Residues.” He hums, exhaling air quietly into the dark. “That’s what the pendant is for, isn’t it?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Jeongguk’s fingers come up to play with the pendant on his neck. “But no one’s been able to do yet.” Then he thinks about his army of ten thousand Spirits and says, “I can try, though. Give me a few days, Taehyung-ssi.”

“Hyung.” The boy grins, coquettishly.

“Pardon?”

“Well, if you’re going to help me find whoever tried to kill our mutual acquaintance,” Taehyung turns away to leave, and he brushes Jeongguk’s shoulder as he starts walking. “I think it’s only fair you call me hyung.”

…….

Jeongguk doesn’t call him hyung.

Taehyung doesn’t ask again.

…….

Along with Professor Park’s _I’m-an-ex-champion-and-I-take-no-shit-from-anyone_ attitude and Yoongi’s permanent bitch face, they manage to get the Officials out of their hair real quick. It also helps that Namjoon isn’t willing to pass-up an opportunity to antagonize a representative of the Government.

Jimin spends most of the interrogation sitting next to Seokjin in the waiting room while Hoseok paces back and forth in the narrow hallway, wings fluttering and arms crossed like he’s thinking really hard about something. They’re not questioned, aside from being asked about where they were at the time.

[In elegant terms, Jimin was eating. In inelegant terms, Jimin was stuffing his face with the fish kebabs that seemed to get better the more he looked at them. Seokjin and Taehyung were sleeping with their heads on the table when Namjoon exited the Hall saying something about not being hungry and needing fresh air. Hoseok and Yoongi were playing with their food instead of eating while Jeongguk read a book about Advanced Dimension-Hopping. Seokjin was the only one who has enough guts to rattle these facts to the Official with chemical burns on his face. Jimin squeaked and Hoseok pretended to be mute.]

“Hoseok.” Seokjin says, tiredly. “Sit down.”

The boy obeys with surprising quietness. He sits on the empty chair next to Jimin, legs crossed and mismatched wings covering him from both sides, obscuring his worried face from Jimin and Seokjin. He’s thinking about something – Jimin doesn’t ask in fear of overstepping boundaries. He’s not Jeongguk [who abandoned the waiting room to go see Taehyung, who was breaking and entering into a crime scene – Jimin really wants to know what that’s about] so he just clamps his jaw shut and says nothing.

Taehyung slinks into the room in silence, coolly lowering himself into the empty seat next to Seokjin. Jeongguk walks in less than a minute later, hands shoved into the pockets of his robes and gaze bored and irritated like something’s offended him. Jimin won’t ask – he’s learnt to give Jeongguk space until the boy comes to him and starts talking.

He sits on the chair next to Taehyung upon seeing no other choice, whipping out his copy of Advanced Dimension-Hopping. He stares at the first page for almost ten minutes.

The Officials troop out after a while, muttering something students learning from their mentors. They briefly pause to glare holes into Jimin and the others. He wants to die. Seokjin and Taehyung are the only once that meet the Official’s eyes – they look like they don’t fear many things. Hoseok ducks his head and Jimin stares at the peeling paint on the spaces between the Official’s heads and Jeongguk continues reading like a flock of the most influential people aren’t breathing the same air as him. Seokjin says, “The exit is three corridors down,” and watches the men leave with his lips in a grimace.

Yoongi walks out after a while, scythe replaced with a spear as he takes the seat next to Jeongguk. They look like a bunch of school kids in detention. Hoseok gets up and grabs him by the arm, says, “Come with me for a second,” and they both disappear into an abandoned corridor with no promise of coming back for a while. The awkwardness that settles is so cold that Jimin wants to shudder just from the strength of it.

“I didn’t eat dinner today.” Taehyung says, and for a minute he looks desperate for some conversation and not like he’s plotting the demise of the planet. “And now I really regret it because I’m so hungry.”

“Me too.” Seokjin replies, his mouth forming a pout behind the scarf and he sounds wistful. “The fish kebabs looked so good.”

“They were good.” Jimin finds himself saying. “I ate like five of them.”

When Yoongi and Hoseok come back, Jimin’s talking about how the kebabs tasted with hand gestures and dramatic moans while Taehyung and Seokjin listen with rapt attention and Jeongguk purses his mouth and makes his _I-hate-everything_ face. Hoseok says, “The lamb kebabs were better,” and Yoongi sits next to Jeongguk and says, “I can see where that constipated look on your face is coming from. Don’t you just hate talking about mundane things?”

Instead, when Jimin tears himself away from Hoseok and the on-going debate about whether lamb kebabs were really better than fish kebabs, Yoongi’s telling Jeongguk about the Spirits that are sent to Hell while the younger looks like his world has turned on its axis. Jeongguk has an awful case of hero worship three minutes into the conversation.

And Jimin? Jimin smiles his first real smile since coming into the Domain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so shook by taekook


	8. part vii - yoonjin are ahjussi goals + petty!seokjin + angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, Professor Park says, “Whoever wins gets alcohol from my hidden stash,” and he doesn’t think he’s seen Yoongi or Seokjin move so fast before.

Then it quickly goes to hell from there.

Professor Park is already ready to blow the top of his head off and actually start training them properly, and since Namjoon’s unfortunate incident put them behind the other groups, his short fuse happens to become even shorter. The day Namjoon’s officially cleared from the infirmary wing, [two days and a half since he was rushed in,] he takes all seven of them to Training Ground XIV and says, “Let’s get some work done, brats,” and he says it with such conviction that no one – not even Yoongi, who looks like he doesn’t want to breathe anywhere near the man – bothers to disagree.

Seokjin isn’t familiar with the training methods the Domain enforces, but Taehyung is. The boy frowns and asks, “So we’re sparring today?”

“In pairs, yes.” Professor Park shoots him a wry look. “Taehyung, you’re with Jimin. Jeongguk, you’re with Hoseok. Seokjin, Yoongi, I trust you two to put up a decent match. Namjoon, sit this one out. We’ll train together tomorrow, just us.” Namjoon blanches. He just got out of the hospital this morning. “Any questions? No? Then we’ll begin with Yoongi and Seokjin.”

…….

Most Ethereals depend on their looks to save themselves. The funny thing is, Seokjin doesn’t.

Hoseok notices this three minutes into the spar, when Taehyung points out that his scarf is still on his mouth. Professor Park makes a note of this. Hoseok does too. Technically speaking, an Ethereal is powerless without exposing their entire face. Yoongi has never been hasty with his attacks, and most his Death Beams (shut up, Yoongi was five years old when he discovered he could take the life out of someone with light beams and he couldn’t think of something less childish and it stuck since then) go at Seokjin at a leisurely pace, who dodges them with surprising grace for someone who tripped while walking and choked on air every time he saw food. They’re lazy. Really lazy. They’re older than everyone else, but it’s hardly an excuse, really. Hoseok yawns.

Eventually, Professor Park says, “Whoever wins gets alcohol from my hidden stash,” and he doesn’t think he’s seen Yoongi or Seokjin move so fast before.

Yoongi hasn’t gotten drunk in six months. The rumors about Park Chanyeol’s alcohol stash were so colorful that Hoseok knows Yoongi’s just been waiting for a chance to get a taste of what it looks like. He loves alcohol almost as much as he loves sleep. Seokjin doesn’t look like he drinks a lot, but Taehyung says, “He has a flask of whiskey in his robes at all times,” and Hoseok thinks, whoa. Hoseok thinks they have potential as alcoholics, but their sudden seriousness really isn’t a joke.

Jeongguk vocalizes what they’re all thinking. “Did they just take something seriously because of alcohol?”

He’s spared a reply because Seokjin yanks Yoongi’s scythe straight out of his hand and tosses it somewhere into the bushes. Yoongi swears so loudly that the team from Training Grounds XV flinch in sync and their instructor gasps like he’s offended. Namjoon laughs when Yoongi punches Seokjin across the face and Seokjin lunges to grab his neck and catch him in a chokehold. Hoseok doesn’t dare crack a smile until Seokjin shakes Yoongi, tosses him to the ground and screams, “You punk, I’m your hyung, don’t fucking hit me!”

It looks more like a catfight than an actual spar after a while, but it doesn’t look any less amusing. Yoongi punches Seokjin and Seokjin hits back, all the while both of them are glaring at each other like the alcohol is the elixir of immortality. “The alcohol will be mine!” Yoongi snaps, and he does the most immature thing by yanking Seokjin’s blonde hair from his head while slamming his face against a tree, and while he sounds confident, he’s quick to jump and make a run for it when Seokjin turns around with a branch clutched in his hands. Hoseok roars with laughter when Yoongi grabs his scythe and turns around to chase Seokjin right back, only to get dirt in his eyes. (“Ha!” Seokjin laughs, mockingly while Yoongi hisses like a provoked cat. “You thought you could pull my hair like a kindergartner and I’d let you get away with it?!”)

Taehyung wipes his eyes. “Oh my God,” he says, exactly at the same time Jeongguk says, “I can’t believe that’s Yoongi-ssi.”

He’s got an awful case of hero worship. Hoseok doesn’t see why.

Professor Park is just about to announce that both of them are sore losers when Yoongi successfully manages to knock Seokjin down and proclaim himself the winner. Unfortunately for him, Seokjin isn’t completely passed out, and he gets his petty revenge by tripping Yoongi onto the grass before sighing tiredly and collapsing helplessly onto the grass. Yoongi doesn’t get up for a while, so Hoseok jogs over to help him up. Professor Park shoves some sort of healing serum into Hoseok’s hand and tells him to make sure Yoongi swallows the whole vial. Yoongi does, but not before he brags that he’s getting drunk tonight.

Seokjin, who isn’t wobbly on his feet anymore, gets his last bit of petty revenge by stepping on Yoongi’s leg when Taehyung helps him to the exit. Yoongi surprises Hoseok by laughing instead of cursing.

…….

“Um, any rules?” Jimin asks, timidly, and his flower crown blooms with sunflowers that are stark against his grey hair.

“Yeah.” Professor Park cracks his first mocking grin of the day. “Don’t do what these two did.” He’s pointing at Yoongi and Seokjin, who are sitting side-by-side and nursing their bruises with healing cream from Hoseok’s pouch.

They don’t, strangely enough. Jimin’s more or less smart, and he avoids Taehyung’s eyes. He doesn’t trip much either, and he’s physically stronger than Taehyung. He dances away from the weapons Taehyung throws at him, lands a few solid punches here and there and even kicks him across the face. Namjoon’s surprised to hear a deafening _crack_ the first time Jimin’s fist collides with Taehyung’s cheekbone. [Taehyung’s just as surprised as he is – the comical _I can’t believe that just happened_ expression is kind of funny if he doesn’t look so pained.]

Jimin’s smart – he keeps attacking viciously with close-range hand-to-hand combat moves, smooth punches and kicks. Taehyung’s not bad either. He keeps trying to catch Jimin’s eyes while blocking his attacks and smirks noncommittally whenever Jimin’s flowers grow on his arms – they die almost instantly. The spar takes so long that Namjoon starts thinking of the time he died and Professor Park starts watching the spar for the spar instead of for the assessment.

Eventually, Jimin gets tackled to the ground and can’t get up from the ground again. Jimin and Taehyung shake hands, Taehyung bleeding from a nasty scratch on his neck from a rose thorn that was Jimin’s makeshift weapon for less than ten seconds as they bump their shoulders together, and Jimin smiles cheerfully as though his mouth isn’t bleeding and his hands aren’t covered with knife cuts dangerously close to the wrist area [Taehyung is skilled with a knife – he seemed to cut where it’ll hurt most and not kill him] and he says, a little quietly, “Good fight,” and the smile he gets in return is disarming.

[They’ve been chummy with each other since they won the argument with Hoseok about fish kebabs being better than lamb kebabs while Namjoon was in the hospital. He can’t find it in himself to have a problem with it – just go with the flow until someone dies, is what his conscience wants to point out.]

Hoseok and Jeongguk fight a little less sloppily than Taehyung and Jimin do, and maybe that’s because Jeongguk attacks mostly with his Spirits and Hoseok flies out of his way. He’s amazed with how fast Jeongguk is as he summons Spirit after Spirit, how hard Hoseok stands his ground even when the pained screaming of the Spirits start up. Hoseok flies and flies and flies until the hand can’t touch him and swings himself down, sword braced in his hand and Jeongguk’s force-field is the only thing that saves him from being beheaded. It’s blazing and bright, partially because Jeongguk’s Spirits are pale blue and the light from Hoseok’s numerous swords keep reflecting light onto them, and partially because they both won’t stop smiling competitively at each other.

By the time it ends, it’s raining because of all the gloom he summons into the Grounds by the time Hoseok tosses his sword down after holding it to Jeongguk’s neck with a particularly hard tackle. Jeongguk, worn out and bruised, shakes hands with Hoseok, bleeding and exhausted, and he says, “Good one, Hoseok-ssi,” and Jeongguk gets a pat on the head in return.

Namjoon thinks he can work with these people, even Yoongi and Seokjin, who are immature whenever alcohol is mentioned. The shake hands with each other (tradition, really) but the smiles have nothing to do with honoring the age-old sparring customs. Namjoon doesn’t want to get attached – he doesn’t want to die, not again – but the atmosphere is so light, so quiet and so peaceful, that he just can’t bring himself to ruin it. Instead, he lets Taehyung bump shoulders with him and Jimin hi-five him and Jeongguk shake his hand and Hoseok grin at him. He lets Yoongi bow at him and Seokjin pat his shoulder and finds that, after a while, he becomes less fidgety and calmer as they smile at him.

It’s happiness, he thinks, and he’s pleasantly surprised when his gut doesn’t drop to the core of the earth at the thought.

…….

“Here.” Yoongi says, gruffly. He can’t believe he’s doing this. “I managed to wheedle an extra bottle out of Professor Park.”

Seokjin catches it without a fuss. He’s sitting at the edge of his bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, a book on his lap and his dagger on the nightstand. Yoongi asked around to see where Taehyung and Seokjin’s room was, and it was their neighbor who pointed him out there. Drinking isn’t a problem, by any means – drinking a professor’s alcohol is a problem. Not that Yoongi cares.

“Thanks.” Seokjin says, after a while, and points to the chair at the desk. “You can sit down. Drinking alone isn’t half as fun as drinking it with someone.” He notices the bandages on Yoongi’s neck. “You doing okay there?”

“It wasn’t that hard.” Yoongi almost screamed in mortification when he got manhandled by someone, so it was pretty hard on him. He takes the chair and pops his bottle open, taking a long sip. It tastes like heaven. “Where’s Taehyung?”

“He went somewhere with Jimin.” He’s vague. “Is the alcohol any good?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to save this.” He won’t. Yoongi will drink this whole thing and like it. Seokjin cracks his one open and takes a long gulp, visibly relaxing. He imagines this is what old men must do at times. To fill the awkwardness, he says, “Man, I haven’t gotten drunk in so long.”

“My brother is a minor.” Seokjin quips, drinking again. “He’s like the biggest snitch ever so I didn’t drink at home. I brought my flask here but it ran out too, because I let Taehyung drink once. Then again, all good things must come to an end, right? Oh, and be careful with those papers – they’re Taehyung’s mail. They came just now, with this Guard who looked like he cooked meth for a living or something.”

Yoongi shrugs and takes another sip, removing his elbow from the table. Unfortunately, the movement makes one of the envelopes flutter down to the ground, and the paper falls out of it. Yoongi swears and bends down to pick it up, Seokjin doing the same, and he almost wishes he hadn’t.

It’s a picture of the seven of them, of the first day they met. Yoongi is polishing his scythe and Hoseok’s staring at Seokjin while Seokjin drummed his fingers on the table and everyone else stared at the mahogany door. That’s not even what makes Yoongi’s blood go cold – it’s that all their faces are stricken off in red ink, Namjoon’s bolded and marked _FAILURE_ and Taehyung’s marked _I WILL FIND YOU._ Jeongguk’s is marked _TIME TO DIE, DADDY’S BOY,_ and Jimin’s is _I WILL STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN VINES_ while Hoseok’s is a drawing of broken wings. Yoongi’s is marked a scythe and a _YOUR DAD HATES YOU_ and Seokjin’s is _I KNOW WHO YOUR FATHER IS_.

What’s even more surprising is that there’s another picture behind it, one of a grave. It says _Professor Park Chanyeol_ and gives his birthdate and today’s date. Yoongi feels his stomach churn. Seokjin gasps and he clutches the sheets so hard that his knuckles go white and the blood goes out of his face.

Yoongi meets Seokjin’s panicked gaze. Their eyes dart back and forth between the door and the picture. Then Seokjin shoves the bottles into his pockets, grabs Yoongi by the elbow and says, “We have to find Professor Park,” and in the next second, they’re sprinting down the hall. Seokjin doesn’t lock the door or bother to put any shoes on. They’re just running, fear clawing and scuttling over their skins.

“Professor!” Yoongi calls, the minute they reach Professor Park’s chambers at the end of the building. “Professor, it’s Yoongi! Can you please open the door?”

No reply. Seokjin knocks on the door thrice. “Professor!” He calls, but it’s quiet enough for Yoongi to hear how loud they’re breathing. “It’s Seokjin, can you please come speak with us?”

Five minutes later, the door finally swings open on its own accord, and Yoongi barges in with Seokjin hot on his heels. He doesn’t register the blood seeping through the soles of his shoes until he notices the body on the floor with its neck cut off entirely from its head, blood rolling down like waves. _Professor,_ he thinks, and he tries to make the identification false, but then he notices the lean body and the taut muscle and the bruises and the dissipating aura and the big ears and – _oh, Lord it’s really him._

Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s screaming as loud as Seokjin is until the Guards come stumbling in, followed closely by the other instructors and the teams. Their team isn’t there – they’re on the other side of the building. The Guards ask them what happened, what they saw, but the most that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth is _no, no, no_ and Seokjin can’t bring himself to say anything when his knees give out.

 _Dead._ Yoongi thinks, hazily. Dead, like mother and father and the man whose soul he reaped for the first time. Dead, like the fifteen years old kid who he collected on Yoongi’s tenth job, like Namjoon was when he went cold and his blood stained the green grass red. Dead, like Lu Han from five years ago, Professor Park’s friend. Dead, like Professor Park’s eyes were since Yoongi met him. Dead. Dead. _Dead_. Never coming back.

“Dead.” Seokjin mumbles, when one of the instructors force him to his feet and shakes him until he stops crying. “We found him dead.”

If they were faster, if they were stronger, if he’d read the mail, if Yoongi hadn’t left Professor Park after he’d gotten the alcohol, if Seokjin checked the man who delivered the mail, if they’d been better – maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have died.

His soul’s gone. Yoongi can’t even put him to rest. The thought staggers him so much that he screams again, clawing at his hair and outright sobbing. He breaks like a vase hitting a wall, bits and pieces scuttling everywhere. Being surrounded by death hasn’t felt this wrong in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell where my mood changed drastically today  
> (i listened to hard carry and then mayday so that's probably it)


	9. part viii - apologies in advance i'm as shook as you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was comical, at best, the way Park Chanyeol died. His biggest flaw was that he was too trusting – he said, come on in, what brings you here, and just let him in and volunteered to pour him a drink. The fact was that despite how he’d won and matured into a man, he was still a child at heart, too naïve and believing and unable to gauge the motives of people. He was stupid – he was oblivious and he had it coming.
> 
> At least the alcohol was good.

It’s easy to get rid of the evidence when the murder weapon is a part of your body.

Cleaning the blood off is hard. It never goes off completely, and if kept for extended periods of time, the blades of his arm starts rusting. It’s not annoying, by any means – a rusted blade hurts more than a shining blade – it’s just inconvenient, and his convenience isn’t something he’s willing to compromise with. He’s been raised that way – the Director always says that there’s no point in killing someone if you’re not going to be comfortable while doing it.

Park Chanyeol’s blood is as black as his soul, but that maybe because he’s biased. The only reason he’s in such a hurry to get the blood off is because he can’t have himself rusting off a sinner’s blood. He sponges the red off his left blade with his right hand and stands under the shower until the blood is diluted with water and pooling at his feet and going down the drain. He watches, smiling, until his blade is clean. The world is one less evil short.

It was comical, at best, the way Park Chanyeol died. His biggest flaw was that he was too trusting – he said, come on in, what brings you here, and just let him in and volunteered to pour him a drink. The fact was that despite how he’d won and matured into a man, he was still a child at heart, too naïve and believing and unable to gauge the motives of people. He was stupid – he was oblivious and he had it coming.

At least the alcohol was good.

If he wanted to, he could have made the brat do it. The brat is twenty years old and under the impression that the world revolves around protecting his brother – it’s like Choi Youngjae hung the moon and the stars and the sun. He wants to roll his eyes just thinking about it. He sympathizes with brats like Im Jaebum. They’re just like Park Chanyeol – smart and potentially brilliant but too attached. If it weren’t for Choi Youngjae, Im Jaebum can be anything and everything. He could conquer the world if he wanted to. He’s just so attached to his brother and it’s so easy to press onto that weakness of his and watch him bleed, so easy to dab salt onto that open wound. Exploitation isn’t something he likes doing. It’s just people are too easy these days.

Those seven kids are a prime example of that – he laughs just thinking of it. They’re foolish kids, if he’s being honest. Like mentor like student, they say. They have Chanyeol’s vulnerability and his trust and his beliefs and his bleeding heart. They were all going to die.

On his way out of the shower, Kwon Jiyong says, “Damn, that was fun,” and doesn’t remember the last time his bloodlust felt so sated before – compared to having Park Chanyeol’s blood on his arms and his blades, killing Seunghyun-hyung seemed like a minor achievement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert jungkook shook pics*


	10. part ix - park chanyeol's funeral + minseok depresses me + tae and baek are bro goals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He was only twenty two, you know.” The mic barely picks up the words. “He learnt how to cook ten days ago and he called me at two in the morning just to let me know he made edible pasta for a midnight snack. He learnt how to speak Latin six months ago and kept on insulting Kyungsoo. Jongin taught him how to waltz a year back, for a colleague’s wedding. The best part was that he didn’t lead and had to ask Yifan to be his date.” Everyone chuckles. Taehyung does too, because the thought of Professor Park waltzing with Mr. Handsome and Smoldering at the second seat is kind of funny. “He never had the chance to love someone. Or maybe someone loved him and he died oblivious. He was so young and so brilliant and so deserving and it’s so unfair that he was taken from us like this.”

Baekhyun’s practically unrecognizable when he comes to the funeral.

And it’s not even the fact that he’s in a complete different body that makes the difference. His eyes are red and puffy like he’s been crying and his voice is hoarse and angry as if he’d screamed too loud. His knuckles are bruised red – he punched a wall, maybe out of anger or hatred or something else. When two men clad in Government robes bring him in, safely in a transfigured body with someone else’s face, he keeps his head down and refuses to talk to anyone.

“He’s the only living relative.” One of the men says to Professor Kwon, voice bland and unsympathetic. Taehyung recognizes him as Huang Zitao – Baekhyun speaks fondly of the cold man. “Although why I have to explain who he is to you is beyond me. Professor Kwon, this is Park Kihyun. Any questions? Please direct them elsewhere.”

Baekhyun meets Taehyung’s eyes when he’s being lead to his seat in the front row. He doesn’t even try to smile this time around.

Twenty two years old. Professor Park was twenty two years old. He was as old as Baekhyun was, just a few months younger. They were friends – platonic soulmates, one would say. When he was in hold up, Taehyung would sometimes try to distract him from his trials by asking about good memories in the Domain. Most of them would involve Chanyeol – _I got high on my birthday with Chanyeol and Chen,_ or _Chanyeol and I sparred until he broke his foot and I fractured my cheekbone,_ or even mundane things like, _I used to spend breaks doing nothing but teaching Chanyeol our slang, he’s from the Capital so he doesn’t swear like a real man_ – and maybe Baekhyun didn’t know, but Taehyung certainly did. He can’t say he feels the pain: he hasn’t lost his best friend because he’s never had one: but there’s never been a time he’s wanted nothing more than to take the pain from his brother and make it his own.

Before he was an insufferable sociopath, Professor Park was one of the strongest men of his time. Several people come to give their condolences and say their final goodbyes. The most notable face out of all is Oh Sehun, who’s leaning against one of the walls in the back row with a cigarette stuck between his teeth. No one’s seen him since the Games ended – he’s like an urban legend of sorts. People think he’s a myth. Taehyung shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Professor Park was his teammate, and they were friends. The rest of his team is there too.

They all look like someone’s snatched a piece of them away. Taehyung recalls that their oldest member is twenty four. They’re all so young. He doubts normal people in their twenties look so haunted and belittled and broken. They grew up too fast. So fast that perhaps their destiny is just for having the once they love snatched away from them.

The only person to talk is Kim Minseok. He looks older than he actually is.

“I loved him.” Kim Minseok says. Taehyung has to look away and blink because he’s afraid of the pain in his eyes. He’s so honest. “We went to Hell together and we came back one member less but we came out stronger than ever. And he was there every step of the way. We lost Lu Han too soon. We barely knew him for less than three months and yet it felt like forever. When he was murdered,” there’s a collective intake of breath from the Committee of Executives sitting at the side, “the only one with his head on his shoulders was Park Chanyeol. Baekhyun, the stupid fucker, screamed and screwed himself over. Kyungsoo tried to kill himself because he knew he was next. I threw my weapon down and refused to fight. Sehun was just tired – he was fifteen years old and already seeing red. We all wanted to give up and when I said that, Chanyeol screamed at me. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but he screamed at me a lot. He asked me if giving up was my only choice, if I was a fucking coward. I was in a bad place. I screamed right back and told him if he wanted to fight without Lu Han here.” Minseok lets out a watery laugh. He sounds more like a boy than he probably has his whole life. “I still have the scars from where he tried to knock some sense into me. It hurt so much when he said Lu Han wouldn’t want us to cry and mope and it felt like a slap to the face because he was right. I never cried in front of my brothers before that – as the eldest, I had to not show any negative emotions and be their support. Then he said, _you’re fucking pathetic, Minseok-hyung, and I fear I’m losing all my brothers instead of one_ , and God, did it hurt. I cried and cried until he started crying and then everyone was crying and it was a fucking mess.”

 _They were just boys,_ Taehyung realizes. Next to him, Seokjin raises his scarf to his eyes and wipes a few stray tears away.

“To his team.” Minseok starts, after a while. He looks at Taehyung first, and then his eyes go slowly to everyone until it rests on Namjoon. “You hated him. He hated you. But I don’t think he’s ever been as happy as he was when he was with you kids. He spoke fondly of you. I asked him, _are they any good,_ and he said, _they’re fucking stupid, that’s what they are,_ but he sounded so irrevocably fond that I wanted to believe that maybe you’d make his life slightly more bearable. He didn’t have time to give you proper advice or anything like that, or else you’d have grown on him and he’d have grown on you too. He’s like algae – the more you hate it the more he just gets attached.”

Taehyung hates that he can’t bring himself to disagree with that. He wishes he could, just so that he could convince himself that he’s still unattached and a loner. Then Seokjin squeezes his hand and Taehyung finds that he doesn’t care anymore and he thinks, _I’m screwed_.

“He was only twenty two, you know.” The mic barely picks up the words. “He learnt how to cook ten days ago and he called me at two in the morning just to let me know he made edible pasta for a midnight snack. He learnt how to speak Latin six months ago and kept on insulting Kyungsoo. Jongin taught him how to waltz a year back, for a colleague’s wedding. The best part was that he didn’t lead and had to ask Yifan to be his date.” Everyone chuckles. Taehyung does too, because the thought of Professor Park waltzing with Mr. Handsome and Smoldering at the second seat is kind of funny. “He never had the chance to love someone. Or maybe someone loved him and he died oblivious. He was so young and so brilliant and so deserving and it’s so _unfair_ that he was taken from us like this.”

Taehyung looks at Baekhyun. He’s looking straight ahead at the coffin.

[ _Hyung,_ he remembers asking, _do you like Chanyeol more than you like me?_

 _Never, Tae,_ Baekhyun’s hand reaching over to tap the glass, right at the space between Taehyung’s eyes, _I’ll always choose you. He’s my friend, you’re my brother._

_Hyung?_

_Yes?_

_I love you._

Baekhyun’s million-watt smile. _Yeah, I love you too, brat._ ]

Grief is toxic. When Baekhyun turns his head to meet Taehyung’s gaze, he smiles emptily and mouths, _I’m okay_.

 _You’re not,_ Taehyung wants to say, _and it’s okay if you aren’t. You just lost your best friend and you have every right to be sad and broken and angry and disappointed and vengeful, please don’t lie to me. I don’t deserve your sugarcoated, half-assed lies just because you think I can’t take it if you’re hurting._

 _I know you are._ He mouths instead. _I believe in you, hyung._

…….

“Junmyeon-hyung is making sure no one’s outside. I’ll sweep the area here. You talk to him.” Zitao says to Taehyung when the crowd disperses from the Hall. Taehyung’s hoping to catch a moment with his brother, who’s in his original body now. “Don’t do anything I won’t do. Baekhyun-hyung, talk to your brother.”

They don’t talk. Instead, Taehyung pulls Baekhyun into a quiet embrace. It used to be the other way around – now Taehyung’s taller than Baekhyun and the elder can press his cheek to Taehyung’s shoulder. Baekhyun relaxes against him, arms coming up to hug him back. “It’s okay.” Taehyung says. “It’s okay to feel sad. I know he mattered a lot to you, hyung.”

It’s like they’re kids again. If Taehyung closes his eyes right now, it won’t feel like he’s standing in a Funeral Hall. Instead, he’ll feel like he’s eleven years old and standing with his elder brother in the garden of their old foster home, smiling because of some mischief they got up to without the matron knowing. Baekhyun smells like gasoline and grime and sweat and fire – like the night they had to leave their foster house and the night they were forced to grow up in. It’s so familiar and yet so different and he realizes just how much he’s missed his brother.

“Tae.” He says, words muffled against his shoulder. “Fight for him. He believed in you guys, so don’t let him down, yeah? Promise me you won’t let him down.”

“I,” Taehyung feels himself choking up at the softness of his brother’s voice, “I promise, hyung. I won’t let Professor Park down. It’s the least we can do for him, as a team.”

Zitao clears his throat. “Baekhyun-hyung, I’m sorry, but we should get going.”

Baekhyun disentangles himself from Taehyung, and instead of a smile, he gets a familiar hand getting carded through his hair. “Take care of yourself, Tae. Hyung believes in you, yeah?”

Taehyung can’t help but let himself smile a little. “Hyung?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Baekhyun’s smile is a little slower than usual, and it’s dull around the edges and looks as broken as he must feel on the inside. “Yeah, I love you too, brat.”

Then he flicks Taehyung’s forehead with his index finger. It’s the first time he feels loved in almost five years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some angst + fluff for y'all shook readers im sorry in advance lel  
> (hAPPY NEW YEAR !!)


	11. part x - seokjin's a mess + post park chanyeol stress disorder + casually brings yoonseok back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi gives him a dubious look. “Seokjin, he wasn’t fucked out on drugs. Pupils turn electric purple when –”
> 
> “They’re being controlled by someone.” Jeongguk finishes. “Mind Control, like the guy who attacked Namjoon. It’s green when they’re on drugs. What did he look like?”
> 
> Seokjin’s ears go red. “Well, he was hot.”
> 
> Everyone stares.

Professor Park’s death forces them to maturity.

They stick together. Namjoon is around Jimin and Jeongguk, either seated between them with a book while they doze off into a fitful sleep next to him or standing next to them with his arms crossed while side-eyeing anyone who looked even remotely out of line. Seokjin sticks around with Taehyung, for most of the part, but he and Yoongi sometimes sit together in complete silence with a hair’s breadth between their shoulders. Hoseok’s around Taehyung or Yoongi or Jimin even if they’re not talking to him. Everyone else is criticizing them for it, but with everything that’s happened, no one can bring themselves to care.

Yoongi and Seokjin get dragged to Interrogation right after Professor Park is buried and the Flags of Honor are raised. They sit there for almost two hours, Seokjin doing most of the talking because Yoongi simply refuses to speak. He’s more shaken up than Seokjin is – it’s mostly the guilt, Hoseok knows. If he’d had his scythe out, he’d have sensed the lost soul and saved Professor Park the same way he’d saved Namjoon. Hoseok can't explain it, he really can’t, but he understands.

They didn’t like Professor Park, but Professor Park had taken them in and given them time to adjust to themselves. Professor Park pushed them towards each other. Professor Park read them like they were open books. Before anything else, Professor Park understood them and the loneliness etched to their skins. Professor Park knew. Hoseok can respect that.

 _He was only twenty two years old._ Hoseok remembers Kim Minseok saying, and his heart cracks then and there. Twenty two. Seokjin is twenty two years old. Ken from the Hero table is twenty two years old. Sandeul from the Anomaly table is twenty two years old. Hoseok himself is only two years younger than Park Chanyeol was when he died. Yoongi is only a year younger than Park Chanyeol was when he was beheaded. Park Chanyeol talked to them, laughed at them, scolded them, pushed them around – but what matters is that one minute he was there and the next Hoseok’s being informed that he’s _gone_ , that he _died._ Hoseok’s never had someone he knew die just like that.

“Tomorrow,” Namjoon suddenly speaks up from his position next to Taehyung, “let’s go train. We’ll spar again. All seven of us. We’ll shuffle the pairs and I’ll join one pair, how about that?”

“They won’t give us another instructor anyway.” Jimin responds, leaning against Jeongguk’s shoulder. He’s not wearing a flower crown today. “It’s in the rule book. If an instructor dies, no replacement will be awarded, so we have to do this on our own.”

“We should win.” Taehyung says. He looks tired. “Professor Park would call us cowards if we sat around and did nothing. Everyone else expects us to do nothing anyway.”

“Alright.” Jeongguk shrugs. “Hoseok-ssi?”

“Okay.” He doesn’t see anything wrong with it. “After breakfast, then?”

“I’ll sneak some French toast out.” Taehyung says, thoughtfully. “It could be a consolation prize for the losers.”

Despite himself, Hoseok laughs. “What gives you the idea that you won’t lose?”

Taehyung smiles. “I haven’t lost to anyone in a long time.”

…….

The next morning, Taehyung loses, and horribly at that.

Jeongguk tosses him halfway across the Training Grounds and he goes crashing into a forest clearing, screaming like hell on the way. It’s after a grueling spar of twenty minutes – they’ve mostly used tactics and evasion until Jeongguk attacks physically and Taehyung’s smaller than him, weaker than him and doesn’t look like he can bench-press John Cena, so he loses miserably. Well, not miserably. He cut Jeongguk in ten different places with his knife and sliced the boy’s robes straight off his chest, broke his nose, fractured his arm, bashed his skull against a tree, bruised his ribs, and then lost because Jeongguk lifted him and tossed him like he weighed nothing.

When Taehyung walks himself back, looking mostly annoyed and ego bruised, Seokjin hands him the healing serum while everyone else watches his pouty face and says, “So I guess you’re eating the French toast then.”

Jimin, who gets his ass handed to him by Seokjin, and Hoseok, as well as Namjoon, who Yoongi took a while disciplining, choke the French toast down with bitter looks. Jeongguk gets a swig off Seokjin’s alcohol flask while Yoongi drinks a half of the whole thing – he can’t get drunk on that much even though Jeongguk’s stumbling over his shoes trying to make sense of everything. His hyungs have never given him the good stuff – Jimin says he’s not much of a drinker.

Namjoon announces a break, because everyone’s covered in grime and blood and sweat (and tears, in the case of Hoseok, who cried a little because Yoongi’s scythe started wailing half-way through and frankly speaking, Hoseok is deathly afraid of that thing and his eyes just watered a little bit). Seokjin’s the only one who remembers clean towels, and living with Hyosang teaches him how to carry more around, so he throws each one of them one. Yoongi gets his straight to his face while he’s unsuspecting – Seokjin’s petty like that.

“So.” Taehyung finally says. “Should we talk about the mail?”

And just like that, the mood shatters.

The mail just makes Seokjin remember everything. He can live without having to think of the blood and the neck and the big ears stained red, without thinking of how impassive Professor Park looked even with his head cut off. The Officials tell him and Yoongi to just forget about it, and that they’ll find out who did it. Seokjin doesn’t think they ever will, or even if they wanted to. They hated Professor Park almost as much as he hated them.

It’s shoved in Taehyung’s bag. They’d agreed to actually keep the mail instead of showing it to the Officials, because Namjoon said, “Hey, they’re not going to do much about it, and we should do this on our own – someone’s threatening us and we should be the once to deal with this, no?” It seems pretty valid to them.

Yoongi says, “Better now than never, I guess.”

He’s never been the loud type, not really. The most he’s ever spoken to Seokjin before they fought about alcohol was when he asked the directions to the bathroom. These days, though, he still doesn’t talk, but for some reason, when he does talk, it’s closed off and guarded. It’s guilt. He couldn’t reap Professor Park’s soul and now it’s wandering around the Domain.

(Jeongguk asked once, why the actual Grim Reaper didn’t come at the first sign of death. Hoseok cringed at the mere mention of him, and he said something about how he never comes if he knows one of his descendants are there. Seokjin chalks it up to the fact that Grim Reaper is a coward who can’t face his own children, or merely does not wish to.)

“Someone’s out for Taehyung.” Jimin states. It’s the most he’s spoken since the funeral, but he’s been around to put flowers on Professor Park’s grave this morning. They were peonies. “I mean, the guy that attacked Namjoon was looking for him. Now this. He’s the one they’re out for, and I guess whoever it is, he thinks we’re a cute team of fuck-ups.”

“Hyung.” Jeongguk’s not stumbling anymore. “Cut it out. That’s not what this is about. We’ve all got connections to the Government. You and I are in all legal terms and conditions, no longer related to the Jeons or the Parks. And if it was just Taehyung he was after, he wouldn’t have known much about the vines incident, or the fact that my parents are alive. For all intents and purposes, we buried both those incidents. We’re orphans, hyung. That’s what he’s supposed to know.”

“He wouldn’t have known about my wings either.” Hoseok’s voice is quieter than usual. Broken wings. Seokjin can’t discern the look on his face, not really, but Yoongi swallows and looks away. As if realizing that he can’t really say that without an explanation, Hoseok continues, “I lost one of my wings when I was in Hell. Uh, the only other choice was to kill me, so Yoongi-hyung stole a wing from a Heaven’s angel and implanted it to my back. The thing is, since then, neither of my wings have worked as well as they used to – that’s why they’re still different colors. In the Skies, we call these Broken Wings. I, uh, I’m not an angel from Heaven. I’m the Gate Guardian from Hell. Well, her son, at least.”

 _The only other choice was to kill me._ Mercy killing. Seokjin feels like the wind’s been knocked straight out of his chest. _Hyosang’s father was killed like that._

“I don’t know how he knows my father hates me.” Yoongi says. “Even I didn’t know that. The Grim Reaper isn’t really easy to read on the rare occasions where I see him. Besides, most people just assume I’m Grim Reaper, so this guy did his research.” Then, he asks, “Seokjin, you remember who came to give this?”

“Some doped up Guard.” Seokjin responds, because really, that’s all he can say. The Guard looked so jacked up it wasn’t even funny. Seokjin’s heard of drugs in the Capital that make people so numb that they can’t feel anything, their eyes bloodshot and green regardless of their pupil color. The funny thing about this guard is that he looked high on drugs, but the color of his pupils remained purple. “You know, thinking back, even though he was fucked out, his eyes weren’t green like the Capital drugs make them go. They were purple.”

Namjoon freezes. “What shade?”

“Pardon?”

_“What shade?”_

The desperation clawing in his voice makes Seokjin’s mouth go dry. “I remember electric purple.”

Yoongi gives him a dubious look. “Seokjin, he wasn’t fucked out on drugs. Pupils turn electric purple when –”

“They’re being controlled by someone.” Jeongguk finishes. “Mind Control, like the guy who attacked Namjoon. It’s green when they’re on drugs. What did he look like?”

Seokjin’s ears go red. “Well, he was hot.”

Everyone stares.

“I mean he had black hair pushed back, a neck as glorious as mine, really defined cheekbones, small eyes and the ugliest puncture wound on his left hand. On his forearm, actually. It looked like an arrow had gone through it. It looked fresh too, like from maybe three or four days ago. He was wearing navy blue robes and said he was a Guard Intern.” Seokjin rattles off. Then he retracts. “Wait a minute, didn’t Namjoon get attacked with arrows three or four days ago?”

“Yeah, I tossed one of his arrows right back at him and I guess it hit him.” Then it dawns on him. “No.”

“Maybe.” Taehyung amends. “Did he tell you his name?”

“No.” Seokjin’s ashamed to say he tried to actually get it. “Interns aren’t at a liberty to share their names or anything like that. Or something.”

“So you’ll recognize him if you see him again?” Jimin asks, voice quieter than usual. Seokjin nods. “Well, I guess the Director General’s coming tonight, and everyone at the Domain is required to be in attendance. If you see him, tell us, and we can corner him afterwards. Technically, Interns are students too. Maybe he’ll sit with his team.”

“And if we find him?”

Hoseok raises a hand. “Let me take care of it.”

“Nope.” Yoongi says, almost instantly. “Can I have this? I mean, I’m already driving myself insane because I can’t find Professor Park’s soul anywhere, so let me get these answers, okay? I need closure.”

Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know. You’re kind of stupid. Hoseok, you can go with him.”

Despite the somber mood, Hoseok grins. “Like old times?”

Yoongi grins back. He looks like a Cheshire cat like this. “Like old times.”

At times like this, Seokjin really wishes he had friends. Then Taehyung hooks an arm around his shoulders and whines about needing to learn Seokjin’s knife skills, and he realizes that Taehyung comes pretty close.


	12. part xi - and the plot, like my gravy, thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s really the last thing you should be worried about right now, if I’m being honest.” He leans against the tree and Namjoon gets a clear look at his face, smooth skin and defined jaw and small eyes and every crevice and every curve giving off the impression of youth. “Because whatever is after me, is after you now. All of you. It was just you at first.” He makes a motion at Taehyung, who seizes up. “Because you – they’ve been waiting for you for years, Kim Taehyung. Did anyone tell you about The Vision?”
> 
> Taehyung is spared his reply by Hoseok.
> 
> “A boy in black, a boy with a cold heart of gold, a boy who loves too much and receives too little, a boy with eyes every shade of color in the spectrum, will have a stack of cards to read bits and pieces of a future Mortals never deserved.” He takes the raise of Im Jaebum’s eyebrows as confirmation. “That one?”

“Entrance.” Seokjin says. “Be discreet.”

Hoseok almost drops his entire plate trying to get a good look at the boy. Jimin sloshes some orange juice into his own pasta while turning around, some of it landing on Jeongguk, who makes a noise of utter disgust as he cranes his neck. Taehyung says, very loudly, “That’s him,” and attracts the attention of almost everyone. Yoongi, to his credit, is at least a bit subtle, but he stares brazenly. Namjoon makes a sound that’s a cross between a snort and a scoff. Jimin internally wails when the boy stares straight at them. _So much for subtlety._

His eyes flicker to the staff table after he sees them staring. Then he hunches his head, tosses his hood off to reveal an impassive expression, and slowly walks towards a table on the opposite end. Jimin’s eyebrows almost disappears into his hairline when he sits down next to Mark Tuan (come on, everyone’s heard of Pretty Boy with too little words and too many books) and says what sounds like a casual greeting to him.

“Got it.” Taehyung suddenly says. Jimin turns to him and almost sloshes his juice onto his pasta again. He’s holding a Card under the table while he reads off it. “Im Jaebum, twenty years old, weaponry, super speed, invisibility, Anomaly, complete loner, mildly suspicious and kind of closed off.”

Namjoon seizes up. “Weaponry, super speed, invisibility?”

“Well, those are his focal skills. He’s half-Ethereal.” Taehyung pockets his Cards. Jimin is the only one who notices the look of utter horror on Namjoon’s face. “I’m going to go ahead and say he doesn’t really have the Mind-Controlled vibe going on.”

“He radiates the Residue.” Jeongguk says, effectively stopping Namjoon from speaking. His eyes are turquoise. He’s reading the air around the boy. Another skill Jimin doesn’t know about. “It’s fairly recent too. I’m going to say less than three days ago. Also, from the looks of it, he isn’t temporarily possessed. My hypothesis is that he gets controlled by someone for long extended periods of time and he doesn’t struggle.”

“Willing or unwilling?” Namjoon finally breaks his silence.

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk admits. “Uh, it’s jaded. That’s about as much I know. My powers can get me only this far.”

“If I recall correctly,” Yoongi interrupts around a mouthful of rice, “you are a Spiritual Medium, Jeongguk. You’re not supposed to be able to read Residues and know about Mind Control.”

Jeongguk’s special. He’s one of those Versatile Mediums that have one finger in each pie – at this point, Jimin won’t be surprised if one day Jeongguk starts controlling people. While Mind Control isn’t his forte, he’s been non-stop working on it since the day Namjoon got attacked and killed and then revived again. (It sounds marginally less ridiculous in his head.) Jimin never asked about his progress because he’s been all over the place since the Funeral. He doesn’t wish to talk about it.

“Uh, I have hobbies.” Jeongguk goes red at the ears. He has such an obvious hero crush on Yoongi it’s almost funny. “It’s no big deal, really.”

“I wasn’t going to make one out of it, kid.” He finishes the last bit of his rice and says cynically. Jeongguk looks like a kicked puppy. Jimin squeezes his knee while Hoseok mouths an apology. Seokjin just snickers into his noodles. “And anyway, Seokjin, you sure that’s him?”

“Why is he sitting with Mark Tuan though?” Taehyung asks. Jimin almost jumps up and shouts _ha, I knew I wasn’t the only one who was curious,_ but refrains himself when the rest of the table gives him a blank look. Taehyung, realizing that they’re all unaware, gasps like he’s offended. “You mean you’ve heard nothing of him? He’s like an urban legend around here!”

Jimin wants to point out that it’s surprising that he – Kim Taehyung better known as Tall, Dark and Handsome (Copyrights to the Girls from the Anomaly Table who have a really big crush on Kim Taehyung, Trademarked by the Girls from the Hero Table who have a really big crush on Kim Taehyung) and Smoldering Eyes and Potential Winner of the Most Handsome Face To Ever Enter the Domain, and Yes, That Includes Byun Baekhyun, (god, what a tedious name) – has been in on the gossip vines. Instead, he says, “I heard of him. He’s kind of got a reputation for doing practically nothing aside from reading and looking hot.”

“So he’s practically Seokjin.” Hoseok deadpans, but it’s thankfully drowned over Namjoon’s, “That’s not it, is it, Taehyung?”

“No.” He shifts. “Not really, no. I mean, all he does is read and look hot, but it’s his reading choices that strike to people. The other day, I heard that some Guards caught him reading up on Professor Kwon. And as if that’s not questionable enough, he actually asked about the validity of the story.”

Jimin’s confused. “What story?”

Now everyone at the table is looking at him blankly. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t either.” Jeongguk says. Jimin’s thankful that he isn’t the only one here.

“I was raised in isolation and even I know the story, man.” Namjoon says, exactly at the same time Hoseok says, “Yoongi-hyung and I grew up in Hell and we know what went down, dude.” Seokjin settles for a noncommittal, “Wow, kids these days are slow,” while Taehyung just stares dumbly. Then, seeing the Guards throwing them dirty looks for talking incoherently, Taehyung leans over and says, “After whatever Hoseok and Yoongi are going to do to this guy, you, me and Jeon can meet up at mine and Seokjin-hyung’s. I’ll give you a crash course.”

 _Seokjin-hyung._ “Fine.” Jeongguk says. “But I expect some compensation for wasted time if this turns out to be useless.”

Taehyung looks positively cat-like. “I have gummy worms for the kid and cheap beer for Jimin.”

Jeongguk’s face scrunches into a scowl. “I’m not a kid!”

Then, as if he hasn’t already broken the poor kid’s heart, Yoongi takes the last drink out of his white wine and says, “Start acting more mature then, Jeongguk.”

The collective _‘ooh’_ s that echo in the table are almost drowned out by Jeongguk’s pained hiss. Yoongi remains oblivious and asks Hoseok to pass him the cheese.

…….

It’s not finding Im Jaebum that’s the hard part. In fact, it doesn’t even seem like getting answers will be difficult. If anything, it’s getting out without being tailed that’s the annoying part.

Namjoon makes the fourth turn of the hour, watching the navy blue robes flutter into the hallway. Beside him, Hoseok looks back to see the six Guards at the Station. The others are flocking behind them, shoulders hunched and hoods up. Namjoon wanted to go with Yoongi and Hoseok purely because he needed to know why he was almost subjected to a premature death, and for some reason, they’d all wanted to tag along – and Namjoon was okay with that in more ways than he cared to admit. At least this time if he got attacked, he’d have six others to get his back.

They reach the Exit. Namjoon watches from a distance when Im Jaebum stops near the door and grasps the handle. Then he turns around, faces them, and he almost smiles. In the blink of an eye, he’s opening the door and leaving. The cold air rushes in like a torrent.

He’s sitting on a tree branch by the time they find him again. It’s in Training Ground VI, and he’s on the lowest branch, legs dangling and hands clasped tightly like he’s trying to stay warm. That’s not what stops them though – it’s the fact that resident Bookworm Mark Tuan is sitting on a few branches above him, book in hand and glasses on his nose. No one says anything for a minute.

“He said you were stupid.” Im Jaebum says, and his voice is barely a whisper in the wind. Namjoon recognizes the voice anywhere. _Bite it, Namjoon. Quirk Thief, huh? It doesn’t matter to me whether you die or not. I’m here for information and if you can’t give me that, I’ll kill you. Your corpse would be a nice remainder for Chanyeol-hyung, I think. This isn’t over, not yet, anyway._ “He said you were naïve. And I guess you are.”

The sound of his own resolve collapsing is heavy in his head when he sticks his hand out and imagines his fingers around the boy’s throat, and in the next second, there is a loud crash from where Namjoon hauls him and shoves him against the trunk of the tree. Telekinesis is a beautiful power on the rare occasions he uses it. He’s still a safe distance away, but the invisible force on Jaebum’s throat feels like his own hands, and it’s a good feeling.

“Now.” Namjoon says, sounding quite pleasant despite the tirade of _he tried to kill you he tried to kill you he tried to kill you he tried to kill you_ playing in his head like a scratched record. “Do I have to crush your windpipe or will you talk?”

“Put him down.” Mark Tuan doesn’t look up from his book. “Or I’ll lift all the Wards that are keeping you from getting caught with your invisible hands around my teammate’s neck, Namjoon-ah.”

_Wards. A Magician. Teammates. That’s how they know each other. Namjoon-ah. He knows my name._

Seokjin pinches his elbow. Namjoon drops his hands instantly, and the boy collapses to the ground like lead weight. He’s surprised to see the pleasant smile on his face despite being mauled around by a kid with telekinesis.

“You.” Yoongi speaks up. “You killed our Professor.”

“I did not.” The rebuttal is instant. He shoves himself off the ground, dusting his robes. Namjoon notices the scar on his forearm and the swell of his ribs. “Do you really believe that it’s my place to kill an ex-champion all on my own?”

“But you’re not on your own.” Jeongguk counters. “Electric Purple, Mind Control Residue. You’re being controlled by someone. So we’re not at a liberty to believe whatever you say to us.”

“My instructions were to deliver the envelope to Kim Taehyung. I did my job. Killing someone, much less Park Chanyeol, wasn’t part of what I was told to do.” He looks sick to the stomach when he says the words.

“Stop saying _what I was told to do_ as if you had a choice.” Jimin’s voice comes out shrilled in the dark air. He seems to get it first – Namjoon’s always seen Jimin as someone who reads people easily. The disgust in his voice, the unintentional timbre when he said instructions and the positive loathing in his eyes meant he was being forced into it. “I know you didn’t. What’s your obligation? Who’s asking you to do this?”

“That’s really the last thing you should be worried about right now, if I’m being honest.” He leans against the tree and Namjoon gets a clear look at his face, smooth skin and defined jaw and small eyes and every crevice and every curve giving off the impression of youth. “Because whatever is after me, is after you now. All of you. It was just you at first.” He makes a motion at Taehyung, who seizes up. “Because you – they’ve been waiting for you for years, Kim Taehyung. Did anyone tell you about The Vision?”

Taehyung is spared his reply by Hoseok.

“ _A boy in black, a boy with a cold heart of gold, a boy who loves too much and receives too little, a boy with eyes every shade of color in the spectrum, will have a stack of cards to read bits and pieces of a future Mortals never deserved._ ” He takes the raise of Im Jaebum’s eyebrows as confirmation. “That one?”

There’s nothing but the sound of the leaves crunching between the soles of Mark Tuan’s feet when he lands on the ground. “Listen.” He says, accent blunt and no formality in his tone. Namjoon winces at how impassive he sounds. “He’s not here because he’s got a day off from being possessed. He’s here because he knows this is what his Controller expects him to do without getting this throat ripped out. He’s here because he wants to be. You already know he’s being controlled by someone – don’t ask who that someone is unless you want a one way ticket to Hell – and you know he didn’t try to kill you on purpose. He doesn’t remember what he did. He doesn’t remember who he is half the time.” He looks pained at having to talk. “So listen, and listen damn well. Stay away from him. He has his motives as to why he’s bowing his head down to a Controller and you have yours when you walked in here.”

 _This isn’t over, not yet._ “You said it’s not your place to kill an ex-champion on your own.” Namjoon suddenly says, and he knows he’s clutching at loose straws here. It’s based off something he’s heard over the streets while walking. _Only a champion can kill a champion._ “Why did you say that?”

The blue shields on the Grounds go down. Mark Tuan sighs, takes his book and turns to walk away. Im Jaebum grins at him as if to say, _I knew I could count on you to find things like this,_ and says, “Why, Namjoon, only a champion can kill a champion.”

When Namjoon looks back after Im Jaebum disappears into a flutter of leaves, Mark Tuan is sliding the book into Taehyung’s hands. “Take it.” He says. “You’re going to need it if you’re going to make sense of the future.”

Taehyung looks indefinitely _scared_. Sometimes, Namjoon forgets that he’s so much younger than he actually is.

(The book is titled: _The Most Celebrated Hero of the Games: Kwon Jiyong._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shady markbum + shadier hoseok lol


	13. part xii - jeongguk and the unintentional fuck-up (part one of infinity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You.” Jeongguk breathes, and it’s barely an exhale of words, but Taehyung flinches as if he’s been caught with his hands in a cookie jar or something. He looks so guilty. “You’re his brother.”
> 
> “Jeongguk –”
> 
> “Who’s brother?” Hoseok interrupts.
> 
> Taehyung’s eyes flash blue. Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it, or I’ll kill you.
> 
> Jeongguk’s mouth feels like it is on fire when he says, “Byun Baekhyun.”

“Hoseok.” Taehyung says, no honorifics, no respect, and no emotion whatsoever in his tone the minute the door to Namjoon’s room shuts behind them. “What the hell was that?”

It makes sense that they’re starting with this. Jeongguk and Jimin motion Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon to the nearest seating position and passes around water bottles to them. In the little while he’s known Taehyung, the boy hasn’t looked this desperate, ever. He looks a little like someone has smacked him upside down across the face with a brick wall and then slapped an acid-laced bandage onto the wound – so, basically, like shit.

Hoseok sighs. It’s barely swallowed by the sound of Jimin closing the windows and locking them shut. “I never wanted to say anything because I didn’t think it was true.” He finally says. “I heard it in Hell at one point, from a Mirror.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. “My old man’s?”

“The very same.” Hoseok nods, mouth pursed. He doesn’t look nice like this, frustration and sadness on his face rather than his customary, brighter-than-sunshine smile. “It was the day we got banished, hyung. I only heard a snippet of it. Didn’t get to hear the rest because I got kicked out.” Then, as if on a second thought, “Where did he get it?”

“He collected it from a dying man, I think.” Yoongi sounds distant, far off, like he can’t remember or is trying to remember. He also looks cool and really awesome. (That’s Jeongguk’s inner kid talking.) “He never told us which. The man wouldn’t let him take his soul without taking the mirror first.”

“That’s interesting and all,” Taehyung says, icily, “but why am I in a Vision?”

“Beats me.” Hoseok shrugs. “I’m going to go ahead and say it has something to do with your cards. Boy of the Millennia and all that. I know what you are. It’s not a Trickster.”

“He is a Trickster.” Namjoon speaks up. He’s writing on his arm with a pink sharpie, and it looks important. Jeongguk peeks through. It’s the Vision, or whatever Hoseok heard out of it, written in messy Hangul on the skin of his forearm. “And he’s got Cards. My first guess would be tarot-card reading, but it’s not that simple. The only other option is the Cards of Destiny.”

“Those are a myth.” Seokjin deadpans. “That’s usually what I’d say, but Taehyung introduced himself as Fate the first time we met, so I won’t even dare bring it up. So, will you tell us where these Cards came from?”

“They’re mine.” Taehyung snipes. He’s defensive, which means he’s got something to hide. “I gained them when I was a young boy. My brother says I’ve had them my whole life.”

Jeongguk, as expected, latches onto the wrong part of the sentence. “A brother?”

Taehyung falters. He didn’t want to talk about him, much less have an active discussion about him with anyone. He’s about to distract them by whipping out his Cards, but then he makes the unfortunate mistake of meeting eyes with Jeongguk.

The intricate thing about reading minds is the simplicity of it all. Images and images slide past Jeongguk’s brain, all clustered and messy but all making sense to him. There’s a boy, perhaps older than Taehyung, eyes distant but smiling. His most noticeable feature is the smile – it’s freakishly identical to Taehyung. His hands are almost always clutched in Taehyung’s even though they seem to be older than fifteen in some memories. An older brother. Taehyung has an older brother. Jeongguk narrows his eyes.

Jeongguk never hears voices, but then in one fleeting memory, Taehyung is standing outside what looks like a shack, fingers clutched loosely around his brother’s wrist. The brother looks pained, face scrunched and eyes wild. Taehyung’s the complete opposite – he’s smiling instead of crying even though his brother is on the verge of tears. He says, “I –”

The memory cuts off. Taehyung’s screaming, _hyung, hyung, hyung_.

The memory goes back. Taehyung’s smile remains frozen on his face like a mannequin. “– will wait –”

The memory cuts off again. His brother is screaming into his hands in what looks like a jail cell, and he’s saying, _I was never good enough for you_.

The memory goes back. A tear slides down Taehyung’s brother’s face like marble on porcelain. “– for you –”

The memory cuts off. Taehyung’s laughing at his brother while the boy failed to light up a fire.

The memory fades. “– forever and for now –”

Taehyung’s brother laughing. Taehyung laughing. Taehyung latching onto his brother. Taehyung shoving him. Taehyung being shoved. The scene fluctuates along with Jeongguk’s sanity. “– because you’re my family, Baekhyun-hyung.”

_I will wait for you, forever and for now, because you’re my family, Baekhyun-hyung._

_I will wait for you, forever and for now, because you’re my family, Baekhyun-hyung._

_Forever and for now, because you’re my family, Baekhyun-hyung._

_Family._

**_Baekhyun-hyung._ **

“You.” Jeongguk breathes, and it’s barely an exhale of words, but Taehyung flinches as if he’s been caught with his hands in a cookie jar or something. He looks so guilty. “You’re his brother.”

“Jeongguk –”

“Who’s brother?” Hoseok interrupts.

Taehyung’s eyes flash blue. _Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it, or I’ll kill you._

Jeongguk’s mouth feels like it is on fire when he says, “Byun Baekhyun.”

He can’t say he wasn’t ready for the first fist that’s hurled his way. He just doesn’t expect to pass out before the knuckles grind on his cheekbone, because his pendent bursts into blue flames on the juncture between his neck and his throat, and the searing burn is so much that he barely has enough time to scream before he’s blacking out.

He wakes up in his own mindscape, to Professor Park’s hands on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol school started and im stressed so i write abt jeon and park is that fine


	14. chapter xiii - seunghyun the bleeding heart + return of park chanyeol + jungshook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (For some reason, Seunghyun’s heart aches at all the present tense the kid’s using. He’s not used to being dead. Seunghyun sees him sometimes, running his hand along the walls of the mindscape, tracing names with his fingertips, grinning into walls because he keeps thinking of his old memories. He ducks whenever Seunghyun tosses something at him even though it’ll go right through him if it hits. He looks dead and yet he feels alive.
> 
> Those are the worst. They’ll forever live wishing they never died.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emo drama ahead

Choi Seunghyun wouldn’t go as far as to call himself a saint – but, really, saving Park Chanyeol’s soul from wandering head-first into Hell (or the hands of Kwon Jiyong, he can’t decide which fate is worse) was fully intentional and he didn’t regret it, not even when the kid eyed him like he hung the moon.

He gets annoyed by the attention, and keeping another Spirit in his vicinity is a fucking headache and too many questions. Whatever little he saw of Park Chanyeol through Jeongguk’s eyes was clearly a façade or a mask because the kid is completely different in person. He’s always staring and asking questions like he’s meeting his hero or something similar. Seunghyun’s annoyed. It’s a very big boost to his ego but really, he just can’t like the attention.

If Jeongguk’s noticed that he’s been keeping another Spirit around, he hasn’t mentioned it. He probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway – he’s been busy with his Mind Control side-projects (no, Seunghyun does not feel left out, by any means) and he rarely ever visits anymore. (Kid gets one friend and completely forgets about Seunghyun. Tch, Seunghyun doesn’t need him anyway.)

(He’ll never admit that he actually wanted to save Park Chanyeol. He’d wandered out during the funeral (again, without Jeongguk noticing because the kid overestimated himself more often than not) and found the bluish boy leaning against one of the walls with his fingers scraping the invisible blood off his neck. Seunghyun approached him merely because the dead never understand that they’re dead until someone tells them.

“You’re dead.” Seunghyun told him. He’s never been very eloquent.

“I know.” The boy was young. Twenty three, maybe. “I figured getting beheaded meant death.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“My team are here.” He looks sadder now, but the smile remains stretched on his mouth like a rubber band strained to its breaking point. “It’s the first time I’ve seen them all gathered in one place. Sucks to know I won’t be there to see them together one last time.”

And Seunghyun understood, he really did. When Daesung talked during his funeral, (yes, Seunghyun attended his own funeral, and it hadn’t been much – it was just his three best friends there, Youngbae still staring at his hands like he could have stopped Jiyong from sinking a dagger into the dip between Seunghyun’s throat and his neck while Seungri stared in vacant silence, looking younger than he had his whole life), he had looked straight at Seunghyun standing at the doorway and said, “Jiyong-hyung left us, and this is the last time I’ll ever see the four of us in the same room for a long time. Let’s make it happy, yeah?”

Seunghyun grinned. No one else smiled back.

The kid was looking at his team. He reminded Seunghyun a lot of himself, dying too early and not knowing what to do with himself because he was so close to his friends and yet so far away from them at the same time. So Seunghyun, listening to a voice that sounded an awful lot like Youngbae, sighed and said, “Come with me, brat,” and now he takes up permanent residence in Jeongguk’s mindscape.)

(“Did you see who tried to kill you?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me who it was?”

“No, because he cursed me before he killed me. If I say his name, I’ll choke and go straight to Hell.”

“Wow.”)

They remain mostly in a limbo for most of the part. Then, at half past twelve, sometime on a Wednesday, Jeongguk falls headfirst into his own mindscape looking like a deathly pale child with a burn on his throat and Seunghyun has never seen Park Chanyeol move so fast before.

“Jeongguk!” He says, bluish hands coming to grasp the boy’s shoulders like he wants to shake him awake. His hands go straight through but he persists, calling him and dragging his hands through his chest. “What the fuck, get up! Jeongguk!”

He startles awake. Seunghyun’s about to tell Chanyeol to move the hell away, but then Jeongguk’s already seen him and _boy does he scream_.

Seunghyun’s already annoyed and he doesn’t like screaming people, so his first instinct to snap his fingers and snatch Jeongguk’s voice away, temporarily of course. His mouth remains stubbornly open and he screams silently, and he looks scared before anything else. Chanyeol winces away. His hands come up slack to cross themselves across his chest and he looks almost worried.

“Yeah, I get you’re surprised, but stop yelling.” Seunghyun says. Jeongguk clamps his jaw shut almost instantly. He figures the boy deserves an explanation. “I saved your teacher. He was going to hell but I brought him here instead.”

He snaps his fingers again. “You couldn’t have asked?” Jeongguk cries, and he looks like an outraged puppy now. Chanyeol winces, so maybe he found Jeongguk’s temper explosive. To Seunghyun, it’s mostly annoying now. “Seunghyun, you brought in another Spirit – MY PROFESSOR’S SPIRIT – and you didn’t think I should know?”

“The hell happened with your neck?” Seunghyun asks instead of reminding him who the real owner is.

“Pendant exploded.”

“Congratulations, you’re a Versatile now.” Park Chanyeol could do with a memo to shut the hell up sometimes.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes. “You’re dead.”

“And so will you be until you get out there and explain why you breached someone’s fragile trust on you because you’re a nosy idiot.”

Seunghyun wishes he were alive just so that he could smack these kids all the way to the next week. “Shut up, both of you. Jeongguk, whose mind did you read?”

“Taehyung’s.”

“Nice.” Park Chanyeol snickers. “You betrayed the trust of the Boy of the Millennia.”

Jeongguk looks positively furious. “I didn’t betray his trust –”

“You read his mind without him knowing –”

“Kick him out, Seunghyun –”

“Call him hyung, you punk –”

“Don’t tell me what to do, you’re dead –”

“I’m still more alive than you will be after you open your eyes –”

“Seunghyun get him out of my head –”

“Like Hell he will –”

_“Shut the Hell up.”_

The silence that descends is music to his ears. Seunghyun counts to three and remembers all the good things in his life (which only amounted to Seungri in the end because Daesung’s status is still unclear and Youngbae’s trapped in a book or something) and he breathes in and breathes out. Then he says, “Jeongguk, stop talking to him like that. Chanyeol, stop talking to Jeongguk like he’s beneath you. Apologize to each other, now.”

A few grumbled apologies later, Seunghyun speaks again. “Now that you’re stronger, start putting more effort into your team, okay, kid?”

“But I didn’t ask to become stronger –”

Chanyeol vocalizes what Seunghyun’s thinking. “How are you so stupid, brat? You don’t ask for this kind of shit. You get it and you take it. What did you see in Kim Taehyung’s memories that stressed you enough for your pendant to combust?”

Jeongguk flinches like he’s been burnt at the mere mention of the boy’s name. Kids were cute when they realized that not everyone was meant to be trusted. Seunghyun’s saying this like a fact because Jeongguk gradually started trusting Taehyung and never realized it. He wishes he could sympathize but he really can’t. Seunghyun’s never trusted anyone his whole life.

(He had. He’d also been killed for trusting his friend, so that’s not saying much.)

“His brother is Byun Baekhyun.” Jeongguk says. Seunghyun’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline, because – wow, he’d expected many things, but that isn’t it. Byun Baekhyun’s a legend among the Spirits and not for a good reason. (Byun Baekhyun is the one Spirit no one’s ever been able to catch because they can’t kill him. One Guard from the Prisons, a Spirit killed by the man himself when attacked, told the tale of how slippery Byun Baekhyun could be when he wanted to. He didn’t have a good reputation among Spirits. If he dies, he’ll be in Hell before you can say hi. That’s how hated he is.)

“Uh.” Chanyeol says, not looking even remotely shocked. “Surprise?”

There’s an audible click when Jeongguk pieces it together. _“You knew?”_

“He’s my best friend.” He deadpans. Seunghyun rather likes this cool aloof side of him. “Of course I know Baekhyun’s little brother. We’ve never met before the Tournament, but I know who he is. Visits him all the time. Baek never shuts up about him, honestly.”

(For some reason, Seunghyun’s heart aches at all the present tense the kid’s using. He’s not used to being dead. Seunghyun sees him sometimes, running his hand along the walls of the mindscape, tracing names with his fingertips, grinning into walls because he keeps thinking of his old memories. He ducks whenever Seunghyun tosses something at him even though it’ll go right through him if it hits. He looks dead and yet he feels alive.

Those are the worst. They’ll forever live wishing they never died.)

“When were you planning to tell us?”

“Never.” Chanyeol’s honesty is out of this world. “I’d never have told any of you because he never wanted anyone to know about it. I respected that more than anything else. Baek will never forgive me if I violated his brother’s trust. So unless he wanted to tell you people, which he didn’t, I wouldn’t have told you about it.”

Now, if you ask Seunghyun about the biggest mistake he's ever made, it would be this. He asks, "What's the big deal?"

 _“What’s the big deal?”_ Jeongguk’s throat is hoarse from all the screaming he’s done. “Someone’s after all of us! Someone’s after Taehyung because he’s special or some shit, someone’s after us because we know him, Namjoon died and came back to life, there’s a murder of a fucking teacher and no one’s giving a fuck about it, there’s someone who’s being controlled by a killer, Yoongi and Seokjin spent the whole day cleaning _his_ blood off their robes after they collapsed into a pool of _his_ blood, and you’re asking me what the big deal is?  You’re dead, Professor Park, and Jimin-hyung could die, Taehyung could die, Namjoon could die again, Hoseok could die, Yoongi could die, Seokjin could die, I could die – _we could all die at any given time and you’re fucking asking me what the big deal is_?”

The silence that follows is deafening. There’s three seconds of it, and then Jeongguk lets out what sounds like a sob and collapses against the wall, one hand clawing at his face and the other going at his hair. He looks like someone’s tossed him around and broken him like he’s made of china and fragmented him into pieces.

Then, as he always has when he’s gone too far and broken down, he disappears.

Seunghyun can barely breathe by the time the kid’s silhouette disappears into nothingness. He’s leaving because the pressure of the negativity in the air can’t help him. He’ll wake up crying with his eyes red and throat hoarse and he’ll remember everything.

He’s seventeen. Seunghyun met Seungri when he was seventeen and the kid was the only good thing in his life now. He was seventeen when he met Jiyong and they promised each other to be brothers-in-arms forever.

The walls flash red, green, blue, and then red all over again like a broken kaleidoscope. Park Chanyeol says, “It’s unfair. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Chanyeol dying was unfair.

(He had so much potential, he could have done so much, he could have met his friends and stayed with them for the rest of his life.)

Seunghyun dying was unfair.

(He could have done so much.)

Jiyong breaking Seunghyun’s heart and stabbing him is unfair.

(Why?)

Youngbae being cursed is unfair.

(He just wanted to protect Seungri.)

Seungri having to live alone in a world where everyone condemned his mere existence is unfair.

(He deserves better.)

Daesung dropping off the grid is unfair.

(He couldn’t stand looking at Seungri and wishing he could have saved the kid before he went too far.)

Jimin having to be Jeongguk’s support is unfair.

(He’s as broken as the rest of them.)

Jeongguk having to mature up before he grew old is unfair.

(Seventeen. He’s never even kissed a girl before.)

Seunghyun’s helplessness is unfair.

(He just wants to do something for the kid before he drives himself insane.)

“Most things are unfair.” Seunghyun says, and the wistfulness that bleeds into his voice does not go unheard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other news: the bass drop of luhan's skin to skin dropped harder than my motivation to live


	15. hey guys guess who isn't dead + field trip to hell + more prophecies + got7 bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, we did, but we can sneak back in,” Yoongi says, not batting an eye, “it’s safer there than here, and he needs a break. Also, the mirror might talk more if he’s there. We’ll be gone for twelve hours. In Hell time, that’s four days. The rest of you can stay here and try to decode the book.”
> 
> “That’s a shit plan,” Taehyung mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids im sorry for being such a let down lol but I JUST GOT SOME SRSLY GOOD INSPIRATION FOR THIS AND I'M??? ALL OVER THE PLACE RN????

“I know you killed him,” Yugyeom says, conversationally.

Jaebum never reads anything helpful. It’s always some romance novel he’s borrowed from Jinyoung or Mark, either from the eighties or from the early 1700s. There’s very little to know about him, except for his taste in books to be completely out of character and pointless. Mark reads to save all their asses in the battlefield, to learn something new so that he can save himself if the need arises. Jaebum reads to pass time.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Jaebum is a great liar. There’s nothing in his face that even remotely gives him away. Not a twitch of muscle or a subtle curl of his lips. He’s just blank. Yugyeom watches him shut the book ( _Jane Austen,_ by Jane Austen) and lean back on the chair. There’s always a fresh set of scars whenever Yugyeom sees him. A fresh set of lies to tell when anyone asks. Today’s is shaped like fingers around his neck, like someone had tried to strangle him. “As I told you before, I’m not a mass murderer just because I keep my mouth shut.”

“You act like one,” Jinyoung remarks. He’s lying on the bed next to Mark’s, spread-eagle and limbs ungraceful, and the ground shakes slightly when his leg accidentally bounces against the floorboard. Yugyeom’s noticed that he’s the only one out of the rest of them who talks to Jaebum like he isn’t shit to them, and he’s also noticed that he gets away with it. “The constant, unexplained bruises, the half-assed explanations for them, always going out and never coming back on time. You’re shady.”

“The shadiest,” Bambam agrees, flopping around on his bed, “but unlike the rest of you fuckwads, I actually care what hyung does in his spare time as long as he has my back in the field.”

Jackson snorts. “Yeah, because you want him to fuck you.”

“I’m asexual,” Jaebum says.

“You also killed Professor Park,” Yugyeom adds, not even missing a beat. He knows he’s being pushy, but he really needs to hear it at least once. “Admit it, hyung.”

“On a side note,” Jackson pipes up, grinning coquettishly from the corner of the room, where he’s reforming a cent so that it has his own face on it, “I have to agree with Yugyeom here. Jaebum-hyung actually smells like a killer.”

Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Which is?”

“Regret and romance novels,” he flips the cent in the air, and allows it to topple on the floor next to Yugyeom. Washington’s face has been completely changed to Jackson’s, greasy smile included. Disgusted, he kicks it out of the way. “But if you killed someone, I wouldn’t blame you. I’m honestly this close to murdering Bambam in cold blood and leaving him for dead.”

“I’d kill Jackson first,” Jinyoung offers, and grins when Mark makes a noise of assent without looking up from his book.

“We’re deviating from the point here,” Yugyeom snaps, and turns back to Jaebum, who has the audacity to smile at him, eyes softening slightly. Yugyeom is beginning to notice that it’s the same way he looks at Youngjae when he’s not looking and that unsettles him a hell lot more than it should. “Hyung, I’ll get off my ass and actually _prove_ that you killed Professor Park.”

Jaebum gets up, stretches his arms over his head. He shucks his cloak back on and ruffles Yugyeom’s hair. “Good luck proving something that never happened, Yugyeom-ah,” and the only thing that stops Yugyeom from decking him across the face is his brotherly smile.

………..

“Hoseok and I figured it out,” Yoongi says, three days after they end up avoiding each other. Seokjin is sitting on the floor of the room, Taehyung sprawled out next to him, and he gives Yoongi a look that roughly translates to, _I will fuck you up if this isn’t worth it._ He’d almost gotten punched across the face four times while trying to get Taehyung to face Jeongguk. Namjoon is in the same boat. Jeongguk is sitting next to him and he’s looking at everywhere but Taehyung.

Namjoon clears his throat. “Go on, then.”

“Right.” Yoongi blinks. He flips to the page of his notebook (one that’s originally used to write the names of all the dead people he encounters on, but desperate times call for desperate measures) and this is pretty desperate. “I organized all the data that we found out a few days ago and decided to get a good course of action. First, we need to find the damn mirror.”

“Which is going to be difficult as fuck,” Hoseok intercepts, smoothly sliding in with a very detailed map of the inside of Hell that actually makes Yoongi grin slightly, “but I’ve made a map of what we’ll encounter when we enter Hell. Yoongi-hyung and I will go see what’s in there. And we’ll take Taehyung with us.”

“To Hell?” Seokjin narrows his eyes. “Didn’t you guys get thrown out?”

“Yes, we did, but we can sneak back in,” Yoongi says, not batting an eye, “it’s safer there than here, and he needs a break. Also, the mirror might talk more if he’s there. We’ll be gone for twelve hours. In Hell time, that’s four days. The rest of you can stay here and try to decode the book.”

“That’s a shit plan,” Taehyung mutters.

“It’s all we have,” Hoseok points out, “so either go with us or stay here with your own thoughts. I don’t really care.”

Yoongi clears his throat. He’d been hoping that this would be a little gentler in terms of kindness, but Hoseok isn’t feeling too kind, which rarely happens. “We leave tonight. We’ll be back by tomorrow noon, so stay inconspicuous and don’t let them notice that we’re gone.”

“I can just control them into forgetting you guys for a bit,” Namjoon offers, coolly. He’s looking at the detailed map. He blinks. “Does this say Fluffy?”

“The gargoyle,” Yoongi explains. Taehyung blanches. “Also, don’t worry. We won’t have to deal with anything weird. Our guy on the inside, unless he’s a fucking snake, will let us in as planned and we’ll be out in no time. My father is going to be out too, with his new sidepiece, so we can take our time searching.”

“Sounds fake,” Seokjin remarks, “Taehyung, are you sure?”

“It’s the only way you’ll get answers,” Yoongi adds.

Taehyung nods. “Fine. What do I take?”

“Your cards and good looks,” Hoseok says, and then grins, “also, take an apple. In case you get hungry. You won’t have the stomach for hell food.”

……………

They take a portal.

Taehyung keeps his eyes shut the whole way down.

…………...

The first thing about the book that Jimin notices is that it’s entirely in English. He makes an offended noise and drops the book immediately, and Seokjin does the same. Jeongguk doesn’t spare it another look. He’s still a bit traumatized. Namjoon flips through it quickly.

The next thing he notices is the highlighted words. _It’s_ and _death_ and _fear_. _Boy_ and _decide._ Instinctively, Namjoon begins to scribble the words onto his notebook with his pen. (Actually, he does some really cool thing and his pen and paper begin to levitate and write on its own as he reads out the words.) Even with Jimin’s moderately crap English, he can tell that it means nothing.

But Namjoon doesn’t seem to think so.

The words begin to leave the paper and eventually surround the room. One of the letters bounces off Seokjin’s glossy face and bumps against Jeongguk’s tear stained cheek. It’s with a whole lot of fascination that Jimin watches him rearrange the words.

_We can hope. A huge black box. The blue sky. You might not breathe. You might breathe. You might not. Eternal darkness and eternal light. The 14 th night of a lunar month. Dance. Open your eyes. They will never open again. Or it may not. Inhale. Get on our knees. Fold our arms. Pray. Exhale._

Namjoon’s breath catches his throat.

And then it becomes clearer.

**_It is the uncertainty of death that scares humans. No one knows what comes after. Eternal darkness is possible. (Once your eyes shut, they will never open again.) Eternal light is possible. (Once you open your eyes, you will never close them again.) The world might change. (A huge, black box. With your thoughts and demons dancing like it’s the 14 th day of the lunar month.) Or it may not. (The blue sky with clouds and earthy grounds and trees that stretch on forever.) You might breathe. ( ~~Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale~~.) You might not. (Stay still.) We can hope for paradise, (get on our knees and fold our palms together and lock our eyes on the sky and pray,) but nothing will change the fact that we don’t know what the afterlife is._ **

**_And you do not get to decide whether you want to go or not._ **

**_The Boy of the Millennia does._ **

And then, at the very bottom corner, it reads in Hangul, _mirror, mirror on the wall, who is it that shall die next?_

And a shadowy black rose, made of withering sparkles, bloom next to the words.

 


	16. josh from seventeen is a demon + taehyung thinks he's hideous + everyone else thinks he's hot + jeongguk is emo + namjoon and mark might be unlikely friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t be ridiculous,” Hoseok says, and Taehyung is only vaguely aware of his hand still curled into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’d have shrugged it off if he didn’t feel like he’s going to drown if he’s standing alone. “Jisoo doesn’t eat people on working days. You still have the apple, Taehyung?”

Yoongi plucks his third poisonous berry of the day out of a burning shrub and pops it into his mouth, not even wincing when it catches fire inside and he has to crack his jaw open to release the smoke. They’re on the outskirts of Hell and so far, Yoongi has stolen three rocks that he claims will give him immortality and prosperity, five pebbles that he says will make him rich in the next life and a handful rare gemstones that could provide them good luck for an eternity. Hoseok has winced every time he bravely sticks his hands into the fire. Taehyung can tell he’s not a very big fan of the flames and the stench of death that always revolves around it.

As instructed, Taehyung takes a green apple with him. It’s placed in his bag with his cards, and they shuffle uncomfortably to scare him when he doesn’t need it. It’s quiet, aside from Yoongi’s obvious pleasure at being home and Hoseok’s _hm, that’s nice sweetie_ comments to appease him. To say that Taehyung is out of his own depth is an understatement of the century. It’s fiercely hot and all he has to defend himself against the unknown monsters and shadows in Hell is a green apple.

From a distance, a chorus of screaming voices echo.

“It’s here, I think,” Hoseok says, stopping at a place that looks nothing special to Taehyung, and Yoongi hums contemplatively and nods. Hoseok holds his hand out, and then a sword falls into his hand. It shines, much like the rest of him. He swings it straight at Yoongi, smirks cattishly. “Hyung, this might hurt a bit.”

And without warning, he _beheads_ Yoongi.

Taehyung screams, for obvious reasons. There’s a tidal wave of blood and Yoongi’s head falls off from his head and onto the dirt, and Taehyung’s surrounded by a sort of fear that forces him to stay still and not move. Hoseok doesn’t even blink. In a moment, the dark, crusty ground of the outskirts of Hell is stained with thick, onyx ink (Yoongi’s blood is black,) and Taehyung is frozen into the dirt, like his ankles are tied. _There’s so much blood,_ he thinks, _there’s so much blood there’s so much blood there’s so much blood **there’ssomuchblood**_.) Hoseok sighs.

Then the flames happens. Tendrils of black flame begin to rise up from the places where Yoongi’s blood touched the ground. The blood, as though it has a will of its own, curl around the flame and follow it to make a long sections of intricate lines connecting each other. Taehyung doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

A strike of black lighting, and Taehyung shuts his eyes. When he opens them again, Yoongi is standing next to him. There are no evidences of the attack on him, save for a black, scraggly line running around his neck, where Hoseok’s sword touched him.

But there’s the boy.

He’s at the center of Yoongi’s blood, legs not touching the ground like he’s weightless. Taehyung notices, through the panic, that he’s wearing robes almost identical to Yoongi’s, and that the scythe next to him is glowing an ominous blue. His wings are the kind of black you’d imagine death to be: endless, easy on the eyes. He radiates grace and arrogance, and he’s not human.

 _A summoning ritual,_ Taehyung thinks, _that’s a summoning ritual, for sure._ Hoseok just drove a sword into Yoongi’s trachea (did demons and devil spawns even have tracheas) to summon a demon who would enable them to enter Hell. Taehyung’s feeling a little peaky now.

Hoseok pats him on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to,” Taehyung mutters.

“A mortal,” the boy says, and throws his hood back. He’s surprisingly young: bleached blonde hair, high cheekbones, hollowed cheeks, large, catlike eyes the color of the flames. And maybe he’d look completely normal if it isn’t for the fact that his entire skin is black, shriveled up. Taehyung shudders. To say that he’s hideous is an understatement, and to say that he’s terrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Yoongi extends a hand. “I wish someone didn’t have to be sacrificed each time we have to meet, Jisoo. It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the boy doesn’t shake it, but his dry, dark mouth curls up slightly – Taehyung is revolted by how horrifying he really looks, “you have my offering?”

“It’s not me, is it?” Taehyung is beginning to see why Seokjin had his reservations.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hoseok says, and Taehyung is only vaguely aware of his hand still curled into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’d have shrugged it off if he didn’t feel like he’s going to drown if he’s standing alone. “Jisoo doesn’t eat people on working days. You still have the apple, Taehyung?”

“I – Yes?” Taehyung reaches into his cloak and takes it out.

“Cool,” Hoseok throws it at Jisoo. It lands neatly in his outstretched palms. His hands, much like the rest of him, radiate dead energy and are stained black, skin stretchy and rubbery. He grins. “Which way are we headed?”

“Up,” Jisoo tosses the apple up once, twice, and then catches it using his left hand before tucking it into the satchel, “and then we head up north for four hours. I’ll make myself clear when I say that the mortal is not my responsibility.”

“You’re always avoiding trouble,” Yoongi grins, “I figured he isn’t.”

“I don’t have to take responsibility for him anyway,” Taehyung can’t tell if Jisoo is smiling or not (his face is too fucked up for him to be able to see anything) but the black, stitched mouth (he has stitches on his mouth what the fuck) curls up slightly. Tendrils of flames follow when he turns around to walk away. “He’s not my friend, Your Highness. He’s yours.”

He never sees Hoseok’s hand drawing away from Taehyung’s shoulder, and Taehyung pretends not to notice it either.

………..

Jeongguk’s father is the Director General of the Domain.

Which doesn’t really matter all that much, not in the grand scheme of things anyway. Director General Kim wouldn’t know who Jeon Jeongguk is even if he’d been shoved in front of the guy merely because Jeon Jeongguk has spent his entire life running away from the man and Director General Kim has spent his entire life making sure that Jeon Jeongguk never knows who he is. Only one of those people have been successful. Until today, there hasn’t been a single occasion where Jeongguk has let himself come directly in the Director General’s path, but he knows he’s his son.

The Director General, Jeongguk’s father, killed many people. He killed every living relative Jeongguk had and then abandoned him so that he’d have to go live with the Parks. Then he killed them and all Jeongguk (six years old at the time) had at the time was the stupid pendant with _Blood Calls Blood_ on it and Jimin, who was maybe eight at the time and wore a flower crown on his hair to hide how lonely he was. The two of them ran away and never looked back. Jimin allowed Jeongguk to hold his hand whenever he felt like crying. (Jeongguk never noticed that he had to grow up too fast just to give Jeongguk a shot at the life he knew he could never have.) They skipped cities and towns, lived in homeless shelters and refrigerator boxes and danced in the rain to hide the fact that they had nothing. They lived pathetically, but freely.

As far is Jeongguk is concerned, Jimin is the only family he’s ever known. No one else was there for him. Jimin could have stayed with his relatives or a foster home, but he’d held Jeongguk’s hand and taken him somewhere far away. Jimin could have killed him and left him for dead (he was certainly capable of it) but he chose to stay. And at the end of the day, that’s all he’s ever had.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Jimin asks, smiling slightly. He’s the only one who doesn’t look at Jeongguk like he’s crazy whenever he goes quiet.

“Nothing,” Jeongguk curls his fingers around his pendant. He might just get some work done now that Taehyung is nowhere in sight and the haunting regret isn’t following him everywhere. “I’ll see you in a bit, hyung.”

It’s time to figure out who wants them dead, and where to find them.

…………..

“Hi,” Namjoon greets, trying to be amiable and kind even though he wishes he could reach over the table and strangle the answers out of Mark, “I think we need to talk.”

He’s got a whole lot of books stacked at his side when Namjoon sits in the chair across from him. Some of them are fairly new and gleam. (Books about potions and flying brooms: regular witch stuff and a few biographies.) Some are old. (The history of the games, restricted spells.) Mark looks up, and Namjoon barely stops himself from wanting to look away. Mark is _scary_ for someone who barely comes up to Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Let me guess,” Mark’s mouth curls up, “you want to hear about the book.”

“No shit,” Namjoon can’t help but scoff. “Where did you get it?”

“Stole it,” Mark replies, nonchalantly, and doesn’t even blink when he sees Namjoon gape at him, “from Oh Sehun. Your teacher’s friend.”

“Unbelievable,” Namjoon immediately says.

“I know,” Mark blinks, “but I still stole it from him.”

“You’re lying,” Namjoon refuses to believe it.

“I’m seriously not,” Mark fixes his glasses, “I waited until he was asleep, teleported into his room and stole the book.”

“No one knows where Oh Sehun lives,” Namjoon deadpans.

Sparkles rain from Mark’s fingertips. “Magic. All it took was just to see him at Professor Park’s funeral. I took a sample of his hair, performed a simple tracking spell and tracked him down. He lives in a bat cave.”

Namjoon stares.

“It’s appropriate because he’s a half-vamp,” Mark adds.

“That’s – Why did he have this?” Namjoon asks.

“See, that’s the thing,” the sparkles stop, “I don’t know. At first I thought I’d done something completely stupid by breaking and entering into a bat cave to steal a book on a hunch I had, but I pieced it together. There’s a prophecy. I want to uncover it.”

“You don’t care about Taehyung.” Namjoon needs to stop stating the obvious.

“Damn right I don’t,” Mark grins, “but I care about being right, so I think I’ll keep sticking my nose in to your business for a while longer.”

“How did you even know that Oh Sehun had it?” Namjoon is surprised he’s still talking.

“The time Jaebum killed you,” Mark starts, and Namjoon immediately stiffens, “he told me he was wearing robes he had no idea he owned. Peach ones. With words on them. So I looked up people who wore robes like that. The team your teacher was in on the list. I went through all twelve of their profiles and found the ones who I thought were the shadiest. Your teacher, the one in jail and Oh Sehun. I couldn’t investigate Professor Park without looking insane, and the guy in jail is under heavy security, so I decided to pick the one that seemed easiest.”

“I –” Namjoon is genuinely shocked, “that makes so much sense than my theory.”

“Which was?”

“That Jaebum was an alien out to kill me,” he mutters.

“EXOPLANET, yes.” Mark hums. “That was what their team was known for. You know, enough combined strength to blow up the entire universe and create something greater out of it. Or something.” He clears his throat. “I went looking for any clues that could tie him to being Jaebum’s controller –”

“– you don’t know who he is?”

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking,” Mark doesn’t miss a beat, “I don’t, because Jaebum doesn’t either. All he hears is a dissociated voice. He can’t even try to guess who he is. He meets with the guy, but he’s always under too much influence so he can’t remember what he sees.” Mark shakes his head. “And as I was saying, there was nothing like that. Just that book, so I took it. I figured I might need it again, and I was right.”

He could have done anything he wanted with that book. He could have tossed it in the trash or burned it or sold it or lent it to someone, but he’d given it to Taehyung. He’d chosen to help the kid who the odds were constantly against. That’s _admirable_ , to say the least. Namjoon isn’t a huge fan of Jaebum, but he thinks he can respect Mark.

“Taehyung is thankful,” Namjoon ends up saying.

“I didn’t do it for him,” Mark says, “I did it because I have no practical use of it.”

“Okay,” Namjoon knows what denial looks like.

“I have nothing else to say,” Mark finally says, “which means you should probably leave. I told you what I know.”

Namjoon walks out of the library resolutely. He knows what he has to do. Tell the others, formulate a plan, and figure out a possible motive for Oh Sehun to have the book. Seokjin has been helping Jimin train and Jeongguk’s back in the room, reading a book, and everyone else is in Hell (literally). He figures he has enough time.

When he goes to the room, Jeongguk is floating seven feet off the bed and his eyes are red.

 _Ah, fuck,_ he thinks, and then panics.

…………

“Hey,” Taehyung starts, “can I ask you something?”

Hoseok pauses, glancing up from the sword he’s swinging around, and meets Taehyung’s inquisitive eyes. The kid isn’t holding onto anything, surprisingly steady even though they’re on the eight thousandth stair. (They have two thousand more to go, and teleporting is out of the question. According to Jisoo, it’s too risky and could get them killed. Hoseok is sick of waking.) At first, he’d vehemently objected to bringing Taehyung along, but Yoongi had pointed out that prophecies usually tend to make more sense around the people they were written for, which is why they’re here to begin with. Hoseok is relieved to see that he’s doing surprisingly well.

“Sure,” Hoseok takes seven steps forward with Taehyung. Yoongi has royally ditched him for Jisoo, which he can’t actually complain about. Hoseok is a childhood friend, but Jisoo is Yoongi’s guardian. (As weird as that sounds.) They probably haven’t spoken in a long time.

Taehyung jerks his head at Jisoo. “What’s up with his face?”

Hoseok squints his eyes. Jisoo looks perfectly fine. Shiny eyes when he’s laughing at something Yoongi said, pretty, poppy colored mouth curled up slightly. Honey skin that’s highlighted by the light from the flames, long lashes that clung to his cheeks sometimes. Hoseok’s always thought that he’s too pretty to be from Hell, which Yoongi says is just him being weird.

“Nothing,” Hoseok says, “he looks perfectly fine to me.”

“His face –” Taehyung starts, and then stops. Carefully, he narrows his eyes, “There’s nothing about it that _scares_ you?”

“Why would anything about Jisoo scare me?” Hoseok snorts, because _seriously_? He’s known Jisoo almost as long as Yoongi has, and that kid is afraid of loud noises. “He’s like a cute puppy by Hell standards. Yoongi-hyung is way more terrifying.”

“But – _what do you see_?” Taehyung finally asks.

Hoseok decides to humor him. “Bleached hair. Small face. Honey colored skin. Black eyes. He’s also pretty,” Hoseok adds, unhelpfully.

Taehyung blinks. “I – okay?”

Hoseok is suspicious. “Is everything alright with you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Taehyung waves a hand, and then skips three steps and points at Yoongi at Jisoo, who are standing almost at the very top. “We should probably speed up.”

Hoseok follows. “Yeah, we probably should,” he says, but he doesn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agust d by agust d is my favorite thing in the whole world bye

**Author's Note:**

> uNVEILING MY PROJECT THAT'S WHY I WAS GONE SO LONG LMAO
> 
> also: point: there are Heros, and Anomalies and Villains: Hoseok, Yoongi, Jeongguk and Jimin are Anomalies, Seokjin and Taehyung are Villians and Namjoon is an unclassified Quirk Theif.
> 
> *is lowkey excited for responses that'll never come*


End file.
